


i'll keep on fighting (just to make you believe)

by jbhmalum



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Michael Clifford, Getting Back Together, M/M, Michael Clifford & Calum Hood Friendship, Michael is so sweet and too optimistic, Miscommunication, New Year's Eve, Oblivious Luke Hemmings, Panic Attacks, Protective Calum Hood, Slow Burn, Summer, Swearing, didn't realize they weren't together anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: “Hi, Mike,” Luke says softly.Michael might have cried from hearing his voice so clearly, not through a phone line, but instead his smile just gets bigger and bigger until his cheeks hurt.“Hey, Luke,” he replies before throwing himself at Luke, arms looping around his neck and holding tight.“Easy there, tiger,” Luke says with a chuckle, but he hugs Michael back.It feels so different, all the shapes and sizeswrong, yet Michael has never felt so at home, melting right into the hug. Luke still fits so perfectly against him despite everything. Because it’s them, and they’re meant to be, and Michael never wants to let go.*In which Luke is finally coming home to Australia for the summer after two years, and everything should be perfect. Michael quickly realizes nothing is.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford & Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	i'll keep on fighting (just to make you believe)

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!  
> Oh my, okay. You guys, I have been living and breathing this fic for about a month, and now it’s here, and it completely got out of my control, and it’s one of my favourite things I’ve ever written, I’m actually so proud of it. I had no clue I had 30k in me, but here we are!
> 
> Okay, so. You do not need to read [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161428) but it is a short (2k) prequel to this fic, which takes place roughly a year before this. I mean it would be fun if you read it, but it is a little bit different tone wise, and you won’t miss anything that’s not brought up again here. The only thing you might want to know is that Michael writes Luke letters saying how much he misses him, but he never sends them. But anyway, I’m not the boss of you, so do whatever you want! This fic stands perfectly on its own.
> 
> I am going to give a big big thank you to[Amanda](https://lifewasradical.tumblr.com/) for literally being the best cheerleader I could have asked for, literally hearing me rant about this fic every hour of the day and even helping me get over some plot points here and the, I love you so much thank you for all your support. <3
> 
> And then to [Anna](https://ashtcnirwin.tumblr.com/) who was kind enough to reassure me that this was good and left ridiculous comments on the doc as she went through the emotional rollercoaster that this is haha thank you so much!! ily <3
> 
> I think that’s it, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. <3
> 
> title from last young renegade by all time low
> 
> PS: I should say I totally pretended the academic dates were the same as where I live and thought the summer break in Aus was. actually in summer??? so yeah this takes place over december/january of 2016/17!!

Michael can’t sit still.

Alright. It’s not as if he can do that usually. He’s always fiddling with his shirt or with his hands or crossing his legs and uncrossing them. It’s a nightmare for the people around him, especially in class, but he can’t help that he’s always overflowing with energy when it’s inconvenient.

But today his energy levels are through the roof from impatience and excitement. He woke up at six a.m. and made his parents breakfast for them to eat on the patio under the bright sun. He cleaned his bedroom even though it couldn't have been more tidy already from the deep clean he did two days ago. He took a shower and washed his hair and made sure the rest of the house was in order.

By eleven a.m., all of that was done.

Now, it’s almost four p.m., and Michael has spent all that time checking his watch and pacing around the living room and driving his parents insane.

“Please, Michael, will you sit down?” his mom sighs from where she’s watching TV, but there’s a smile on her face. “You’re making my head spin, darling.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

He joins her on the couch, intent on at least trying, but it’s a losing battle, and he’s back up within thirty seconds, his mom letting out a groan.

“Sorry, mom,” he says, checking his hair in the mirror. His fringe is getting out of hand, and it’s so humid out from the heat that it’s all a mess, but he kind of likes it like that. “I just can’t wait.”

Michael has been waiting for a lot of good things in his life. He remembers waiting and waiting impatiently for a long six months before his twelfth birthday, knowing he was going to get his first guitar. He remembers his skin crawling with anticipation for two days before his dad took him and Calum to see My Chemical Romance in Sydney. He remembers waiting nervously to see if he would get accepted to college, even if everyone assured him it was obvious he would be.

But nothing has ever come close to the level of giddy anticipation he’s feeling today. 

Because today, Luke is finally coming home, and today, everything is going to get better.

For two full years, he’s been waiting, and it’s been tough. An understatement, considering he’s spent a lot of his time crying to himself (or to his mom, on occasion; and okay, to Calum as well) about missing Luke, thinking about taking him in his arms or kissing him again. Or even just sit together and do nothing but appreciate each other’s company.

Right now it feels like all of that has evaporated. Michael’s parents had told him around five months ago that Luke’s family was coming back home to spend the summer with them, and Michael had actually cried tears of joy at the news. It’s been a little better since he’s known already, but today. Today Michael feels like nothing could ever go wrong again.

He’s so close to holding Luke again, it feels surreal.

“Do you think the plane landed on time?” he asks for the tenth time.

“It did, I told you Liz texted us that they were waiting for a taxi to go and get their rented car,” his dad says.

“Do you think they got one?”

His mom rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, Michael, I think they got one.”

With a sigh, Michael rounds the room once again, before going to the window and looking in the driveway. Of course, it’s still empty, so he lets out another sigh and goes back to the couch.

“What?” his mom asks when it’s clear he’s just waiting to ask her something.

“How long until they get here?”

“Well, I’d say about forty five minutes now.”

Michael thinks, but not for long, then says, “I’m gonna bake a cake to pass the time.”

Understandably, his parents look at him with much confusion, but they let him go to the kitchen with a, “Knock yourself out”.

Michael has no idea how to bake a cake.

He knows where the baking books are though, so he takes one and chooses a random chocolate cake that doesn’t seem to be too much work. And so Michael bakes a cake, not without absolutely ruining the kitchen with flour, but by the time he puts it in the oven, he thinks he did alright. Maybe he’s even kind of proud of himself. 

He’s in the middle of cleaning the dishes when he hears a car pull up in the driveway, and he almost hurts his neck with how fast he turns around, dropping everything into the sink.

“Michael, they’re here!” his mom shouts, but he’s already out the door.

His heart is racing a bit too fast with how excited he is as he runs down the driveway to the Hemmings’s car. He sees Liz and Andy first, taking bags out of the trunk. They wave at him, Michael waving back with a bright smile as he slows down and walks up to them.

He’s about to go and give them a hug, but at this moment Jack gets out of the car, big and curly haired, followed by Luke who’s… as big and curly haired.

Michael’s heart stops at the same time he does, eyes growing wide at the sight. Jesus fuck. 

This is not the Luke that Michael remembers. He’s taller than Michael now, for starters, as tall as Jack. His shoulders, that Michael remembers all gangly and skinny under his head, are broad and there’s so much muscle mass on them Michael doesn’t know where to look. So he looks up, to Luke’s face framed by luscious golden curls.

If Michael had ever forgotten why he was so hopelessly in love with Luke, he would be reminded of it now.

He’s just so _pretty_. Michael knew that before. He used to tell Luke all the time when they were in high school and falling in love, much to Calum’s dismay, who had to witness it for about three years. They were obnoxiously in love, all over each other all the time, so it’s safe to say Michael knows how magnificently pretty Luke is.

It’s still jaring, to see him looking so different even though Michael should have expected it. 

His smile, though. His smile is still the same, big enough to light up everyone around him.

“Hi, Mike,” Luke says softly, shaking Michael out of his thoughts.

Michael might have cried from hearing his voice so clearly, not through a phone line, but instead his smile just gets bigger and bigger until his cheeks hurt.

“Hey, Luke,” he replies before throwing himself at Luke, arms looping around his neck and holding tight.

“Easy there, tiger,” Luke says with a chuckle, but he hugs Michael back.

It feels so different, all the shapes and sizes _wrong_ , yet Michael has never felt so at home, melting right into the hug. Luke still fits so perfectly against him despite everything. Because it’s them, and they’re meant to be, and Michael never wants to let go.

“Huh, Mike?” Luke says, confusion tinting his voice.

“Yes?”

“Are your hands wet, by any chance?”

“What?”

With a frown he regretfully leans back, detaching himself from Luke to bring his hands in front of him. Hands apparently dripping wet and full of soap.

“Oh! Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I was doing the dishes.”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “You were?”

“Yeah! I baked a cake.”

“You… what? You cook now?”

“Hey, don’t act so surprised,” Michael mock-pouts, making Luke laugh the purest sound Michael has ever heard. “No, I don’t cook. I just didn’t know what to do while I was waiting. So, I baked a cake.”

“Fun,” Luke says, unsure.

“It’s chocolate. You like chocolate, right?”

“I love chocolate!”

Michael falls silent then, only capable of mirroring Luke’s smile and taking in his appearance once more, from his growing curls and wide shoulders and to his legs that apparently still fit in too skinny jeans.

He’s going to have to get rid of those soon, Michael thinks, looking down at his own legs clad in basketball shorts. He knows Luke has only set foot in Australia for a couple hours, but Michael can’t imagine he’s not melting under the scalding heat of the sun in those jeans.

“Something wrong with how I’m dressed?” Luke asks with a frown, and Michael flushes a little when he realizes he’s been staring.

“Oh, no sorry. I just hope you brought more shorts, have you forgotten the Aussie weather already?”

“Come on, Michael,” his dad says, startling them both. Michael hadn’t noticed his parents come outside, but apparently everyone else seems to have already greeted each other. “They were in the dead of winter twenty four hours ago, let them get acquainted again, will you?”

Luke raises an eyebrow at Michael, face adorning this adorable smirk, and Michael pouts.

“Fine,” he says, but he’s interrupted by Jack coming up to him.

“Come on Mikey, can I get a hug now that you’re done staring into my brother’s eyes?”

Before he can protest or defend himself, he finds himself with an armful of Jack, who squeezes Michael a little too tight before letting go and ruffling his hair.

“Look at you, kiddo,” he says. “All grown up, who would have thought?”

Michael rolls his eyes.

“You know I was already a grown adult when you guys left, right?”

“Tsk tsk, nineteen isn’t a full adult in America mate.”

“Well, I’m not from your New York City, I’m from here, so I was an adult.”

“Well,” Luke cuts in, “at least now you’re universally legal, we can agree on that.”

“Yeah, and you’re not,” Michael says, to which Luke just sticks his tongue out, making their parents laugh around them.

Michael is engulfed in Liz and Andy’s warm embraces then as Karen and Daryl do the same to Luke. It’s familiar in a new way, seeing their families together again. It makes Michael’s heart burst with happiness as they all move inside the house so the Hemmings can have a cold drink and settle down after travelling for so long.

“Let’s move to the patio,” Michael’s mom says. “You remember where it–”

“Huh, is that smell normal?” Luke asks, looking from Michael to the kitchen and back to Michael again.

“Shit!” Michael shouts, eyes widening. “The cake!”

He runs to the kitchen, where the space is filled with smoke coming out of the oven. He curses again, telling everyone to go and relax outside, promising he’ll take care of it.

“I’ll help you out,” Luke says with a smile.

Even in this extremely dire situation, Michael can’t help but smile back; Luke is here in the flesh, in Michael’s house, and he must be tired from the journey but he still chooses to help Michael tidy up his mess instead of sitting down with a cold drink with everyone outside.

Fuck, but Michael loves him with his entire heart. He refrains from saying that out loud, because he thinks it might be a bit much within the first hour they’re seeing each other after so long. Also because they’ve stopped saying it a while back, even on the phone, and Michael is a bit apprehensive to get the words out and have them reach Luke’s ears again.

It’s safe to say the cake looks unsalvageable, the thing black as tar. Michael’s fears are confirmed when Luke tries a bit, making a face as he lets out a, “Sorry, it tastes like charcoal”. Michael doesn’t take it to heart; he’s just happy to have Luke by his side, filling the space around him, even if said space is currently full of smoke and smelling like thirty people just blew on their birthday candles at once.

When that’s dealt with, they join the others on the patio, and end up spending the rest of the day there, catching up on random things and others, familiar laughter and banter blending together. It’s all a bit blurry to Michael, who’s just too elated to take in anything that’s happening. Even as the sun goes down and they have dinner, he just can’t wrap his head around the fact that Luke is here with him and he’s pretty and huge and he looks so warm and Michael wants to cuddle so bad.

It goes by at lightning speed; the Hemmings have spent the last thirty six hours not being well rested, what with being aboard a plane for twenty-four hours and waiting at the airport for an additional couple hours, so they opt to go to bed not too late. They do have almost two full months to catch up, after all.

Admittedly, Michael doesn’t want to waste too much time, because he already knows those two months are going to go by way too fast and he wants to make the most of it with Luke. But Michael could see him dozing off throughout dinner, barely able to keep himself up even as he laughed along with everyone here.

It was very endearing; Michael already knows he spent ninety percent of his time watching the way Luke’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks instead of listening to what was going on around him. Which might be part of the reason why he just ended up daydreaming about cuddling. Michael loves cuddles. Especially if they involve a sweet blond and blue eyed boy.

Their parents bid them goodnight as they go to their respecting rooms, Jack doing the same as he goes to the spare bedroom. He’ll be off to sleep at a friend’s house for a part of the trip, Michael is pretty sure, but he’s choosing to stay with everyone for now. And Luke, well. Luke stays with him.

“Here you go,” Michael says, opening the door to his own bedroom, gesturing for Luke to go in first.

“Oh wow, this has barely changed at all,” Luke says.

He drops his bag by the wall under the window, looking around the room. Luke is right; Michael’s room has mostly been the same since he was about thirteen. Same light blue walls covered with various band posters, same twin sized bed where he and Luke would fall asleep on, same wooden desk he did everything but his homework at, same corner with his guitar propped up. He might have made some changes at some point in the past few years if he’d been here more often, but he’s away at campus for most of the year, so he’s never really seen any reason to do it.

“So,” Michael says as they change into clothes for the night. The house is silent, the sound of crickets outside of the barely open window calming. “You look a bit different.”

Trying not to look out of respect is a tad harder than what Michael had anticipated, but he can’t help the way his eyes wander to Luke’s bare chest as he removes his shirt. He’s got a lot of muscle on him, no longer so flat and lanky. No wonder Michael felt so comfortable and safe in his arms earlier, he thinks. Too bad his wet hands cut the hug short.

Hopefully, he won’t have to wait for long to get another one, he tells himself, looking at his bed. A hug, a kiss. He’s getting antsy thinking about it. He’s never been that good at initiating any of that, but he might have to now.

“Well, you certainly don’t look the same, either,” Luke counters, chest covered again with a sleep shirt. He’s pointing at Michael’s hair. “Are you done colouring that, then? Too afraid it’d actually fall out eventually?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to try it out, you know? You don’t like it?”

“No, no, it looks good,” Luke hurries to say with a shake of his head. “It looks good. I like the length, too, looks cool.”

Damn it, but Michael had missed blushing like an idiot at Luke’s praise. Thankfully the room isn’t too brightly lit so he can keep some dignity, but he doesn’t think he’d mind Luke teasing him about it too much, if he’s being honest. Luke doesn’t say anything else though, just removes his skin tight jeans, so Michael follows his lead and gets on with changing.

“Your hair looks good, too,” he says, staring at Luke’s face. It’s still the most angelic thing Michael has ever laid eyes on. “I had no clue it could curl like that. It’s huh, it’s pretty.”

“Oh, thanks.” Luke smiles, ducking his head at the compliment. “It's still growing, I think. I mean, obviously, but I’m gonna let it get longer, I like it.”

“I like it too.”

Luke lets out a yawn then, the umpteenth since he got here. Michael can see he’s struggling to stay awake once again.

“We can go to bed, you’re tired. We’ll catch up more tomorrow, yeah?”

That seems to please Luke, who rubs his eyes and stretches, arms reaching high above him. Michael gets under the covers, watching him fondly. He’s not cold by any means, but he hates not having his legs covered when he’s in bed. Thankfully, he remembers Luke being the same way.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Michael asks, confused, when Luke climbs under the sheet of the mattress on the floor next to the bed. Mattress which Michael had elected to ignore, only putting it up in the room to keep up appearances in regards to their parents.

Luke frowns. “Sleeping?”

“Don’t you want to get in with me? I know the bed’s small, but we can make it work.”

Luke only frowns again, letting out an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, I, huh. I’m good with the mattress, thank you.”

“Luke really, I can scoot over–”

“Mike, I’m good with the mattress,” Luke insists.

“Oh.”

The deep and unexpected disappointment hits Michael like a freight train, the joy and excitement he was feeling at having Luke pressed up against him again disappearing instantly, leaving him cold despite the cool heat of the night.

“Okay,” he says with a frown, because Luke seems to be waiting for something from him, here on the floor.

“Okay,” Luke parrots with a small smile, lying down entirely and pulling the sheet up to his chin. “G’night, see ya tomorrow,” he says softly before promptly falling asleep.

If Michael had appreciated the silence a few minutes ago, now it feels almost oppressive. He’s confused. He’s been ready to taste Luke’s lips again, feel his breath against his neck as they both fall asleep together. He’s not just been ready for it, he’s been dying to.

As he listens to Luke’s breathing evening out, there’s a voice at the back of his head wondering if maybe he’s missed something. He ignores it, as well as the uneasy feeling in his stomach. They haven’t seen each other in years. Michael needs to accept that Luke might need a couple days to get back to sleeping in the same bed.

Michael will give him time. He just hopes he doesn’t need too much of it; after all, summer won’t last forever.

* * *

The first thing Michael notices upon waking up is that the room is empty.

It's not something he usually thinks about; the room is always empty. But today, he feels the loneliness of it deep in his bones before he even opens his eyes. The morning sun is beaming through the slightly open window, painting the room in shades of gold that he knows would have made Luke’s face seem even more ethereal. 

At the thought of Luke, Michael's eyes trail towards the empty mattress on the floor, lone sheet over it ruffled. He lets out a sigh, last night coming back to him. He frowns at the mattress, trying to make sense of what happened. He’d been so ready for things to get back to where they left off. Luke turning down sleeping next to him and a chance to be as close together as they used to be feels like a punch to the gut.

The part of him that’s been scared and mindful of the way Luke had seemed so happy and content without him overseas, of the way Luke stopped saying “I love you” first, of the way he stopped being the one calling, is coming back full force. Michael tries to shake it. It’s not as if Luke was trying to keep him out of his life, or didn’t care about him. If he didn’t, he’d have told Michael a long time ago to stop calling him, he would have gotten mad at Michael calling him in the middle of the night because Michael is terrible at remembering about time zones.

It’s highly possible Michael is being irrationally anxious once again. That tends to happen. But Luke got here yesterday; Michael shouldn’t have expected him to jump into this so quickly. Luke has always been a bit shy with showing his emotions, even when they were in the same room. Especially around other people.

Letting out a sigh, Michael relaxes, a smile creeping up on his face. This is a big change for Luke. He’s coming back to Australia, back home, after two full years. It must be strange for him, being here again. It must be strange to see Michael like this, too, he reckons. He knows it was a shock for him to see Luke all grown up, and just because he accepted it in a heartbeat doesn’t mean Luke doesn’t need time to adapt to that as well.

He’ll give Luke a couple days to get his bearings, and then they’ll be all in each other’s space again. Micael can’t wait, but he’ll do it for Luke’s comfort.

Shaking his head, he finally checks his phone, not surprised to see he has four messages from Calum.

 **From: Cal  
Yesterday, 6:03 p.m.**  
so, is he here yet?

 **Yesterday, 6:07 p.m.**  
tell him he stinks and that i’ll see him when i come back

 **Yesterday, 6:09 p.m.**  
only if you promise not to make me feel like the third wheel too much tho

 **Today, 10:27 a.m.**  
seriously, already ignoring me? i’ll let it slide cause he just got here but boy you better call me and tell me everything

That last text makes Michael feel a bit guilty, because he’d promise Calum he’d keep him updated, but only for a moment before he realizes what time it was sent. He looks at his phone. 11:13 a.m.. Shit, he can’t believe he slept this late, no wonder Luke is already out of the room. He was never one to sleep in too much, Michael remembers.

Fucking hell, Michael can’t believe no one woke him up. That he’s already wasting time to _sleep_. He doesn’t need that much sleep. And just because he’s just decided to give Luke some time doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to spend every second by his side. _Why don’t you get up and find him then?_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Calum says in the back of his head.

Calum’s voice is right, as always.

After a quick stop to the bathroom Michael pads down the stairs to see Jack putting things away in the kitchen.

“Morning kid,” he says when he sees Michael.

“Morning. I’m not a kid,” he adds.

“Sure you’re not. Luke’s on the patio eating all the vegemite,” Jack says into the cupboard. “He’s missed that shit.”

“You don’t have it at all over there?” Michael asks, surprised and honestly a little disgusted.

“Well, if you’re lucky you can find it in some places, but it’s not the same.”

“It’s a crime, I know,” Luke shouts from outside, lighting a smile on Michael’s face.

“I’m just gonna…” Michael says, gesturing to the patio, to which Jack just rolls his eyes.

The sun hits Michael square in the face as he gets outside, making him squint his eyes so that he can see Luke. He’s sitting at the end of the table, head buried in his phone as he eats toast.

He lifts his eyes briefly, sending a quick, soft smile Michael’s way before going back to typing on his phone.

Michael joins him, taking his own toast and spreading vegemite on it.

“Where’s everyone?” he asks.

After one last text — Michael assumes — Luke finally puts his phone down.

“I think our moms went grocery shopping for the week,” Luke says. “No clue where our dads are, though.”

“How much you wanna bet they’re just in the garage talking cars?”

Luke smiles into his cup of coffee. “I don’t wanna bet cause I agree with you there.”

“Wow, _that’s_ a first,” Jack says as he joins them at the table.

Luke’s jaw couldn’t drop further down, which makes Michael laugh.

“That’s not true, Michael and I agree on things!”

“Absolutely not, I remember you bickering over everyth– oh wait, you know what, I take it back,” Jack says, lifting his hands in mock-surrender. “You were always on the same page when it came to being menaces.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Luke says. Michael just takes another bite of his toast.

Jack counts on his fingers. “Who trashed Ben and I’s room out of boredom? Who covered the neighbours’ car with toilet paper and accused me of doing it? Who–”

“Alright, alright,” Michael says. “You have a point.”

They finish their breakfast together, Jack being more annoying with every passing second. It makes Michael warm inside though, feeling as though he were three years into the past. The familiarity of the moment makes him feel light and young, like he can pretend all the heartache over Luke being away from him has never happened. The smile doesn’t leave his face all morning as they stay here talking shit at each other until their moms come back to make lunch, even when Luke disappears into his phone a couple more times.

He would have been hurt by that if he weren’t so enthused about all this, but as it is he forgets about it as soon as Luke looks back up to him with his pretty face and asks if he can borrow his guitar for a second to show him how he progressed after lunch.

Michael looks to the pool in the backyard for a second, regretful that this isn’t what Luke wants them to do with their afternoon, but slightly thankful for it, too. If they were in there together, he doesn’t think he could stop himself from kissing Luke’s dripping wet lips, running his hands through his hair.

Clearing his throat, Michael looks up at Luke.

“Please, I’d love to hear you play,” he says. “I bet you’re so good!”

Michael could swear Luke blushes.

“Well, I’m much better than I was, that’s for sure. I can’t be half as good as you, though.”

“Don’t talk yourself down, you were always amazing.”

“Mike,” Luke smiles. “I’m not saying I’m not good. But I don’t think you realize just how amazing you’ve always been at guitar. Ever since I met you my goal has just been to be on your level.”

“Oh, that’s.” It’s Michael’s turn to blush at Luke’s praise. “That means a lot, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say that you’ll teach me some stuff to take back with me and impress all my friends with?” Luke asks hesitantly.

Michael’s heart shrinks a little at the reminder that Luke will have to go back sooner rather than later, but he tries not to show it. Instead, he promises Luke to show him whatever he wants, appreciating the glow appearing on Luke’s face at the words.

He can’t wait to place Luke’s hands correctly on the guitar as he teaches him about the second thing he loves the most in this world, just like he used to.  
  
  
—  
  
  
After lunch, which lasts about an eternity, Luke claims he needs a shower, so Michael brings his two acoustics in the backyard while he does so. He brings two of the sun lounge chairs together, placing a guitar on each one and sitting on one, finally taking the time to reply to Calum.

 **To: Cal  
Today, 3:41 p.m.**  
sorry!!! i spent the last of the day with everyone, but I’ll call you tonight. i love him so fucking much, he’s amazing and so so pretty i can’t believe he’s here!!!

 **From: Cal  
Today, 3:46 p.m.**  
yeah, tell me about it. Love ya, be careful

Michael frowns at his phone.

 **To: Cal  
Today, 3:47 p.m.**  
about what??

 **From: Cal  
Today, 3: 52 p.m.**  
nothing, don’t worry about it! call me tonight or I’ll beat your ass

 **Today, 3:53 p.m.**  
I miss you (okay i’ll leave you alone with loverboy)

This time Michael smiles at the screen, returning Calum’s sentiment before pocketing his phone. He does miss his best friend; he’s been at his grandparents’ in New Zealand for the past week, and he still has more than two weeks to spend over there before coming back. 

Michael has to admit he was a bit sad upon hearing Calum was coming back home only for a couple days before going to his grandparents; because on top of missing Luke everyday of the year, he’s been missing Calum, too. Fucker got accepted into Sydney’s football team last year, and since then Michael has barely been able to see him, as their schedules rarely line up.

Thankfully Calum was lucky enough to get a few weeks off this summer. Michael can’t wait for him to come back. Having both Luke and Calum away from him really didn’t help make him in good shape mentally.

Before he can start to think about that too much, he sees Luke come back from the house, hair still wet and dressed in shorts and a shirt that looks too small on him. His freckles are suddenly very prominent under the sun, his eyes the clearest blue as he settles down on the chair across Michael. 

He’s out of this world, Michael muses, gripping the neck of his guitar tightly to refrain from caressing Luke’s face. He’s not sure what’s okay and what’s not, now. Hopefully, in a few days he won’t have to worry about that.

* * *

The next couple days go by much the same way.

Michael settles for acting like an overbearing best friend with Luke, lets him sleep on the uncomfortable and too short mattress, and Luke is warm and hilarious and an absolute angel with Michael. Apart from the fact that they’re not kissing or cuddling, Michael could be fooled that they’re eighteen again, Luke spending time at his house for no other reason than because he wants to.

They ask each other about college, catch up on what they’ve been doing there. Luke is still studying law, which he claims has been a pain in the ass, and Michael believes him. And empathizes. His own psych classes have been the most interesting thing, but man is it hard. He’s always had much more difficulty following classes and learning than Luke, but it seems for once they’re on the same level.

Luke tells him about New York and what it’s like being on campus over there. Shows him pictures that look straight out of a movie. Though it makes Michael a bit sad, thinking of Luke enjoying this place so much (like he’s been doing way too often), he feels unspeakably closer to Luke suddenly, seeing all these pieces of the puzzle that is Luke’s life.

It’s not that they’d entirely stopped talking. But since last year, college has been crazy for the both of them, and it’s been really hard to have actual conversations working around time zones and their crazy schedules. So they’ve mostly been talking small talk, asking about how the day is going but nothing more. Which Michael has been resenting a little, but there’s nothing either of them could do about it.

On top of that, it seems Luke isn’t really into the whole social media thing, which Michael knows hasn’t been helping matters. He would have seen Luke’s pretty curls and strong build much sooner if he’d just made an Instagram account or something, but he hasn’t, so Michael hasn’t been seeing any of him. He has to remind himself that even five years ago, it would have just been like this, the choice wouldn’t have even presented itself.

He should just consider himself lucky that they have smartphones at all, and that Luke is here with him _now._ It’s what matters. What he should focus on.

On Sunday a few days later, their moms drag them to the city centre together. Well, “drag” might be a bit too strong of a word; Luke seems genuinely excited to go. Michael doesn’t really care, because Sydney just reminds him of college, which isn’t the worst experience ever, but as stated before he’s not doing that well and after two years he’s still having troubles making any friends. So yeah. College? not his favourite thought.

He’s also a bit gutted to be going out here and not be able to take Luke’s hand in his, parading him around. He’s always been extensively proud of Luke being his, and to be Luke’s. He still wants everyone to know today. Everyone should know Michael belongs to this beautiful man whose accent is becoming a weird mix of Australian and American, and whose legs seem to never stop growing.

Michael tries, subtly. He walks close to Luke as they go by many of the places they used to go to together, when they still needed to take the bus to have their parents’ consent to get to the city centre. He lets his hand brush Luke’s when they walk in smaller alleys and they have to squeeze by many people, their moms a bit further in front of them. He puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder when they stop by the new movie theatre he hopes they can go to together, pointing at cool things on the façade that he thinks Luke will enjoy.

To Michael’s disappointment but not surprise, Luke doesn’t do anything about it, but that’s okay. Because Luke still looks at some of those familiar places longingly, so even if they haven’t done anything like kissing or explicitly being together, Michael is happy to see that Luke must be reminiscing about old times just like he is — and like he does every time he comes here.

And so, Michael waits a bit impatiently, but he hangs in there, not too bothered — or rather, trying not to be too bothered.

It’s the week after that, when Michael starts thinking things might not be going as well as he’d thought.

They do almost everything together, rarely just the two of them, mostly with their parents here. They visit a couple museums, go to restaurants, play backyard games. Michael teaches Luke more guitar as promised, under the hot sun where Michael just cannot stop himself from admiring Luke’s freckles.

It’s fun, and exciting, but Michael can’t help thinking that something is afoot. Maybe. He tells himself that it’s just him overthinking, as he tends to do, but it’s hard some days when Luke’s head remains buried in his phone, when Luke still isn’t initiating anything between the two of them.

Every night Michael crawls under his covers and he sees Luke fall asleep on the damned mattress, his heart shrinks a bit more, and he gets more and more confused. He really doesn’t understand what Luke is waiting for. But maybe Michael is just being an idiot. Maybe Luke’s just waiting for Michael to make the first move. Maybe he thinks Michael isn’t ready. Which would be far from the truth, but Luke is nothing if not considerate, so it would make a lot of sense, actually.

Which is why, as gets into bed one night after a fun karaoke night in the living room, he decides to finally do something. He doesn’t know how, but he’s going to do it, and show Luke he has nothing to worry about.  
  
  
—  
  
  
“I think maybe it’s time we used that pool,” Michael tells Luke when it somehow gets hotter by the end of that confusing week. Their parents are out of the house to see friends that neither Luke nor Michael really know, and Jack has been at his friend’s since yesterday. So, it’s just Luke and Michael on the sun loungers. “You brought your swimmers right?”

“Of course I did, what kind of Aussie do you think I am?” Luke says with his not-so-Aussie-anymore accent, immediately getting up from his chair. “Beat you there.”

They run inside the house, Michael hiding in the bathroom to change as he feels too weird doing it in front of Luke. When he’s done, he takes a look at himself in the mirror and lets out a huge sigh.

Sure, they’ve changed into night clothes in the same room since Luke got here, but usually the light is too low for Luke to really have a look at Michael. Michael hasn’t even really looked at Luke since that first night, either, because Luke had seemed to hide a little, putting his shirt on as quickly as Michael.

But Michael still caught a glimpse, and Luke is fit as hell. Michael, not so much. Because yeah, he’s put on some muscle as well, but that means he’s a far cry from what he looked like at eighteen. He wouldn’t call himself chubby, but he’s not as lean as Luke is, and Luke fell in love with the lanky and fit Michael, and he’s not that anymore, far from it. Usually Michael doesn’t feel too self-conscious about any of that, but usually he’s not standing half naked in front of Luke.

Shaking himself, Michael takes his beach towel and runs back outside, where Luke is already sitting on the poolside, feet and half of his legs in the water.

“You’re slow, Mike,” Luke says good naturedly, smile brighter than the sun shining on his face. “What were you doing in there?”

Michael just shrugs, sticking his tongue out before joining Luke on the poolside, sighing when he feels the water on his skin. It’s hot, but more bearable than the air. He can’t wait to get his whole body in there, but Luke chose to sit by the side, so Michael feels like he has to do the same.

“Don’t you miss the sun over here?” Michael asks. “How hot does it get?”

Luke shrugs, lifting his head and closing his eyes, bathing under the sun. Michael still can’t believe his face is real. How does a human being look this good while doing nothing?

“I mean, it doesn’t get as hot as here, that’s for sure, but I don’t really know. It’s all in Fahrenheits, and I still don’t understand how it relates to the Celsius degrees, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, America,” Michael sighs dramatically, drawing a chuckle from Luke. “It’s a strange place you went to.”

“I don’t know, it’s not so bad,” Luke replies.

Michael holds back a grimace. “Isn’t it though?”

Luke looks back at Michael then, a playful smile on his face. “It’s really not. I mean, yeah the politics are a shit show, but other than that, people are cool. Well, most people. And more importantly, New York is sick. Trust me, it’s even better than those pictures I showed you. It’s… it’s magical.”

“Really? I never thought you’d enjoy the city that much, you know.”

Luke shrugs. “Me neither, but I love it. Having Sierra probably helped, too. She’s such a city girl, she made it her mission to show me around and make me love it as much as she does.”

Michael nods. “Sierra, your roommate, right? The one with the cool photographer girlfriend?”

It’s Luke’s turn to nod. Michael had been so relieved last year when Luke had told Michael that his roommate wasn’t a guy. Not that Michael was afraid, but it made it harder for Luke to potentially fall in love with someone else parading around the same apartment as him if that someone was a girl. Luke has never been into girls, and it could very well change, but Michael doesn’t think it will.

The water he feels on his face makes him blink and shake his head to find Luke raising an eyebrow at him, smile on his face.

“Come on, why are you thinking so loud?” he asks. “Let’s go in the water, I’m melting.”

“You first,” Michael says, for absolutely no reason. When Luke just shakes his head no, Michael shoves his shoulder, trying to push him. Unfortunately, Luke sees it coming, and manages to escape him.

“Oh, no,” Luke says, the look in his eyes too playful. It’s _exciting._ “I’m not going in first, Mike, no way.”

The world turns on itself for a split moment, and Michael feels the chlorine of the water stinging his eyes before he realizes Luke pushed him into the water unmercilessly. He trashes around the water for a second, body confused, until he has the sense of mind to swim back up, taking a huge gulp of air and rubbing his eyes to the sweet melody of Luke’s laugh.

“Oh you fucker,” Michael says, breathless. He can’t stop smiling.

“You should have heard the scream you let out.”

Luke is clutching at his middle, leaning over his lap as he laughs freely. Michael doesn’t even care that Luke is making fun of him; Luke is laughing, and he’s happy, and he’s being playful like before, and Michael loves him. He’s so in love with him, he feels like he’s discovering it for the first time again.

“Come down with me,” he says, swimming to Luke.

“Make me,” is Luke’s reply, teasing as he sends water Michael’s way with his foot.

Michael catches it, tugging slightly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Make me,” Luke repeats. There’s a glint in his eye that makes Michael’s heart miss a beat and that would make his palm sweat if they weren’t underwater. It’s inviting and charming and everything Michael can never resist. Maybe it’s a sign that he should do something, the one he’s been waiting for.

“Alright, I’ll make you.”

“You’re not strong enough–”

Luke’s next words end up drowned in the water getting into his mouth from the surprise of Michael actually being able to pull him down with him. He’s not faring much better than Michael was a minute ago. Except as soon as he’s taken his breath back he dives back down only to tackle Michael’s legs.

Thankfully Luke can’t hear the undignified yelp Michael lets out this time. They battle for a while under the water, naked and too long limbs sliding against each other, but Michael can barely register it, focused on trying to breathe properly. He almost manages to a couple times, but Luke keeps tugging on his legs or jumping on him to make him drown each time, because no matter what Luke is stronger than him now, until Michael finally admits defeat and asks for mercy.

“Okay, but I win,” Luke says through a breathless smile.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Everything is silent around them suddenly, the sounds of their harsh breathings loud in Michael’s ears as their laughter dies down. Luke’s face soothes out slightly, droplets making his skin shine, his eyes clearer than the water. It’s then Michael realizes how close to each other they are, barely a breath away.

It makes Michael’s heart miss a beat, and the air feels charged suddenly, with everything Michael has been wanting. Which is to get his lips on Luke’s. He can already picture himself with his arms wrapped around Luke’s neck, his legs around Luke’s under the water as they finally bring their lips together.

As if connected by that thought they get closer together, pulled towards each other, like magnetized. Michael doesn’t even realize, but he’s pretty sure he’s the one moving, Luke staying still, his eyes searching Michael’s, lips parted slightly.

If Michael doesn’t get to taste Luke’s chlorine filled mouth right now, he’s going to die, so he leans forward, closing the small gap until he can reach Luke’s lips, finally, his eyes starting to fall shut, a hand flying to Luke’s neck to steady himself.

He’s barely touched his lips to Luke’s, when suddenly there’s a hand tugging on his wrist and pushing him away, and his heart drops to his feet.

“What–” he says, confused as he opens his eyes to Luke’s distraught face a couple feet away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Luke starts, and he’s frowning, looking around somewhat frantically and bringing his fingers to his lips. “I’m sorry Mike, I can’t. Shit.”

“You can’t what?” Michael is having a hard time comprehending what’s happening. His heartbeat is too loud in his ears, and he can feel tears springing to his eyes.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Without more of an explanation, Luke swims to the side of the pool and hops out of the water, taking his towel before running off to the house. Michael stays there, alone in the water, too stunned to do anything until a few minutes later he faintly hears the front door open and close, the tell tale sign of Luke leaving.

At that, all the sounds from outside start coming back to Michael, all at once like a slap to the face. The water rippling slightly around him, the birds chirping away like it’s the most beautiful day, the traffic further away from the house.

The thing Michael is stuck on though, is the empty silence left by the sudden absence of Luke’s laugh, reminding him of the harsh reality of Luke being so far out of reach, maybe even more than he’d thought, and that finally makes the tears fall.

That’s when Michael realizes something might have been lost in translation somewhere between them, and he has no idea what to do about it.

For now, he just cries, and lets the pool water swallow his tears.

* * *

Michael isn’t really sure how to go about things after that. He spends the next couple days tense, confused, and everything is awkward. It feels forced when he laughs at Luke’s jokes or when they accidentally touch each other, and their parents are blissfully unaware of the unease going on between the two of them.

All Michael can do now is focus on everything that is different about Luke and the way he interacts with him. How Luke spends most of his time on his phone, texting friends and whatnot, Michael assumes. How he never shows any sign of reaching out to Michael, not only physically, and how Michael should have taken that as Luke not wanting him anymore.

He isn’t sure if that’s been the case since he saw Michael, or if Luke never even intended to be with Michael again in the first place. He honestly can’t tell which of the two would be worse, but in any case, it’s tearing him apart from the inside. He feels betrayed. He feels alone, like all his dreams have been crushed. Luke being here was supposed to be the best thing in his entire life.

Instead, when Luke goes to sleep on the dumb mattress at night with barely a goodnight, Michael is left trying to make sure his tears fall silently, and he can’t help but feel cold despite the heat taking up the room.

“I don’t know where things went wrong,” he cries to Calum one night when it feels like too much, whispering into his phone from the bathroom. “I thought things would just be the same.”

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Calum says. It’s honest, Michael can tell, but it’s also not enough, and he ends up hanging up and falling asleep against the bathtub.

Somehow, a few days after the incident — which is what he’s been calling almost kissing Luke — it gets worse. Michael isn’t sure he can take worse.

They’re all playing a game of Cornhole in the backyard. It’s a weird game Luke’s family is introducing them to where they have to throw little corn-filled bags into holes on a board. Michael is a little skeptical at first, but it turns out it can be quite fun, especially since neither of his parents are any good at it, and he gets a chance to make fun of them a little. 

Jack is here this afternoon to hang out, too, which Michael isn’t sure if he’s glad about. On the one hand, it’s fun having him here to loosen the atmosphere a little and to have another friend to distract him from Luke. On the other hand, Jack keeps glancing between Luke and Michael with a much too focused expression on his face, as if he knows something is wrong.

It’s quite unsettling, because Michael never knows when he’s gonna make a remark out loud and make everyone uncomfortable.

“Okay, I’m fucking melting, who wants another cold drink?” Michael asks, getting up from where he was sitting on the grass, waiting for his turn.

Everyone asks for the same thing they already had, which he does his best to remember as he walks towards the house.

“Mike?” Luke calls before Michael disappears out of earshot.

“Yeah?” Michael says, his treacherous heart beating too loud all of a sudden at Luke talking to him. It’s been doing that lately. It’s not his fault Luke has been almost avoiding addressing him directly unless it’s to say something insignificant.

“Can you grab my phone for me on your way back? I left it on the coffee table, I think.”

Michael has to retain a disappointed frown. He’s not too fond of the idea of Luke hiding away into his American world instead of being truly _here._

“Sure,” he says, which earns him a soft smile, so he hurries inside before his heart can get too crazy. And before he can hope too much. He’s been doing that, too, but he’s been trying not to. He has no clue what’s going on, but if something has to happen, he’ll let Luke come to him. He’s _not_ hoping.

(He totally is. He’s convinced Luke's eyes will open and he’ll realize he’s being an idiot.)

He lets out a sigh at the coolness of the house. It’s somehow been getting hotter as they get closer to the new year. Which is also something Michael has been trying not to think about; all he was waiting for was to kiss Luke as midnight strikes and hold him close, like they used to do. Now, he dreads going into the new year again.

Shaking his head, he sets to pouring everyone’s various drinks and putting everything on a tray before going to retrieve Luke’s phone in the living room.

He doesn’t mean to snoop around. He doesn’t. But as he takes the phone in his hand, the screen lights up with a new text, one that makes Michael frown and his heart stop.

 **From: Ashton  
Today, 2:45 p.m.**  
miss you love, hope you’re having fun xo

The words swim around in his head for a minute, trying to make sense, but they don’t. There’s no way it could be… no. Michael’s just thinking too much, isn’t he? He’s not gonna ask Luke about it. He’s allowed to have friends.

“Who’s Ashton?” he asks when he’s brought back all the drinks, handing Luke his phone.

Luke frowns, hesitantly taking his phone. “A friend, why?”

“No reason, he sent you a text.”

Michael doesn’t like the way Luke hurries to open his phone at that, so he says what he almost didn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I thought I did, must have forgotten.”

“He called you love,” Michael tries, and Luke stills. Michael can see Jack eyeing Luke from where he’s throwing his bag.

“A lot of people do,” Luke shrugs, going for nonchalant, but Michael isn’t too convinced. “Americans love pet names.”

“So, Rian and Sierra call you love, too? Do Jack and Alex?” Michael says. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping out of this.

“I–”

“Hey, Michael,” Jack calls before Luke can finish his thought. “I lost, it’s your turn.”

With one last frown to Luke and a strained smile to Jack, Michael goes back to the boards, taking the bag Liz is handing him.

He tries to get back into the mood, but even the prospect of winning a game isn’t enough to distract him from Luke and Jack whispering rather aggressively to each other. Michael ignores it at first, because they’re siblings, they argue all the time, but it’s hard when he thinks he hears Jack ask “you didn’t tell him?” and Luke’s eyes flick to Michael before turning back to Jack and whispering even lower.

The rest of the day goes by in a weird daze. They play another round of Cornhole, and then move to a card game. Luke avoids his gaze the whole time, blushing when he accidently crosses it, and Michael doesn’t know whether to be hurt or confused.

If Luke doesn’t want to be with him because he has someone else now, then the least he could do is be honest with Michael instead of playing with him and almost letting him fucking kiss him.

Who is Michael kidding. He doesn’t want that. He wants Luke to climb out of his mattress and into Michael’s too small bed, warm Michael by cuddling against his side even though it would probably be too hot to handle. He wants him to say he’s sorry, that he wants to be with Michael, that he loves him more than anything. He wants him to kiss his lips numb, then maybe his jaw, and his neck, before hiding his face in it and falling asleep pressed up against him.

Instead, when they go to bed that night, Luke remains on the floor, typing away on his phone, and Michael whispers to the room that he needs some air.  
  
  
—  
  
  
It’s barely cooled down outside, but it’s still more bearable than it was all day, and it’s better than suffocating in his own room with Luke.

“I think Luke has another boyfriend,” he says when Calum picks up.

“Yes, hello to you too,” Calum says through a yawn. Michael almost feels bad for waking him up when he probably just fell asleep. “What the hell did you say?”

“I think Luke might be dating someone.”

There’s a pause, silence filling the night. “Someone that’s… not you?”

Michael doesn’t blame the confusion in Calum’s voice. He’s just as perplexe. He tells him about the text, and about how Luke hadn’t even told him about Ashton, and about how that’s especially weird because if there’s one thing Luke has been telling him about, it’s his friends. About how Luke has been acting even more strange than since the incident.

“I don’t like this, Mike,” Calum says.

“I could be wrong, though. I probably am. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t, right?” Michael’s not sure who he’s trying to convince at this point.

“Mike…” He can hear the hesitation in Calum’s voice, the same one he hears whenever Calum wants to say something he knows Michael won’t like.

“What, Cal?”

“Are you sure you were even still together at all?”

It’s like cold washes over Michael, and he shivers from the ghost of it. “What? No, I mean. He would have told me if we weren’t.”

“Haven’t you been crying to me for like a week about how he didn’t want to kiss you? And about how he hasn’t been gluing himself to you twenty four seven?”

“Yeah, but that’s. It not. No.” Michael refuses to believe that. He thinks that what Calum is saying should make sense, that it might even be logical reasoning, but he can’t have it be real. Still, he frowns when he realizes something. “Fuck, you think he was so put out by kissing me because he has a boyfriend?”

“I mean–”

“No, that’s fucked up, it’s not true!”

The sigh Calum lets out is sorry, almost pitying. “I’m not gonna tell you anything. Or assume anything. But just– you think about it, okay?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m just helping you out, buddy.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Michael mumbles. “I’m so confused by us. I wish… I don’t know. If we’re not together, then I want us to be friends, but everything is weird now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael lets the silence that comes wash over him, lets his brain wander and wonder; Luke is probably texting Ashton right now. He’s probably glad Michael is out of the room. Michael can’t believe that’s even a possibility when before Luke would have moved heaven and earth just to be near him.

“Look,” Calum says, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m coming back at the beginning of next week. Are we still hanging out on Tuesday?”

“Of course we are. I miss you. And it sucks you won’t spend New Year’s eve with us.”

“No I know, I know. But don’t worry about it, I’ll be there like, literally two days later. But no I meant, are we still hanging out the three of us?”

“Oh. I mean, I guess? I’ll ask him if he wants to come, but I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“If you’re sure,” Calum says, and Michael knows if he were here he would have given Michael a hug. Michael wants a hug. “Okay, if you think you’re alright, I’m gonna get to bed. My grandparents want to go to the beach early tomorrow, so, I need to sleep.”

“No yeah, sure. Sorry I woke you up,” Michael says, but he’s glad he did. Talking to Calum always lifts a weight off his shoulder, even if he doesn’t hear what he wants to.

“You’re good, man. Just good to sleep. Talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Night Cal, have fun tomorrow.”

“Night Mike.”

The night feels heavy in its silence, with Calum gone, so Michael doesn’t waste any time going back inside. For just a second he hesitates sleeping on the couch, but he figures it’s not worth it. He’s not going to hurt his back just because of Luke. It’s fine, everything is fine.

When he gets into his room finally, Luke is already asleep, snoring slightly into his pillow. Despite himself, Michael feels something that could be butterflies in his stomach, and his heart fills with love. He rolls his eyes at himself, but when he falls asleep, he can pretend everything is, in fact, okay.

* * *

“Do we really need that much maple syrup?” Michael asks the next day, watching his mom put four bottles of it in the shopping cart.

“Honey, I think we haven’t eaten pancakes together in a long while,” she says. “Plus, Liz told me all the Hemmings without exception are real Americans when it comes to that thing, now.”

Michael shrugs. “I guess.” He’d rather have too much than not enough for his pancakes.

Usually he wouldn’t necessarily volunteer to go help out with the shopping, but he felt like he could use some time out of the house this morning. They don’t have anything planned for the day, just staying at home again, so he’ll see enough of it the rest of the day. And enough of Luke, too. He can’t wait for Calum to get here and have things go back to normal. Well. Normal-ish, he supposes.

“So,” his mom starts once they turn into the dairy aisle. “Haven’t really had the chance to have a talk. How have things been?”

Michael puts a few cartons of milk in the cart, checks that off the list. “It’s been good.”

“You must be so happy, being with Luke again, I know how much you’ve been missing him,” she says, which has Michael almost stumbling on his feet as he looks up at her. “You guys have always been such close friends.”

Michael wants to laugh at that last part. As if his mom hadn’t seen them hold hands and kiss each other hello or goodbye many times over. They never talked about it, really, but it’s not like she couldn’t have known. Maybe she’s just as unsure about Michael and Luke’s relationship now as Michael is, and doesn’t want to be insensitive.

He frowns at the thought as he picks up some eggs and puts them in the cart. Strangers or other people at school used to roll their eyes or smile fondly while looking at them, because they were attached at the hip. They knew, just by looking at them, that they were an inseparable item. Calum used to make fun of them for it, too.

It was embarrassing, and it was weird, to be the centre of attention for those short moments, but Michael would rather have people think that of them than to think that there’s something off.

“What’s wrong honey?” His mom’s voice shakes him from his thoughts. He looks up at her, her face twisted with lines of worry, concerned look in her eyes. 

Michael sighs, gives a tiny shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know. I'm thrilled to see him, it’s just. It’s not how I imagined seeing him again would be. Sometimes it just feels like we kinda grew apart, you know? We don’t have that much in common anymore.”

Saying it out loud feels different. It’s not the exact truth, and he bites back a comment about Ashton, or about Luke spending all his time on his phone instead of enjoying his literal home, because he doesn’t think his mom would understand how Michael really feels about it.

“That’s not very true, now is it?” she says. “I see you teaching him some guitar tricks and making fun of tv shows together.”

“Yeah but... I don’t know. It’s different.” _Luke is different,_ he doesn’t say.

“Well, maybe we’re all here too often,” his mom says after reflection. “Maybe you should do something just the two of you. Without the rest of us. You know you can, right? You’re both adults, you don’t need our permission anymore.”

There’s something in her voice and in the knowing smile on her face, something Michael tries not to think about too much. If she thinks they’re going to hook up, she’s quite misled. Michael can’t think of something worse than being like _that_ with Luke. Not because it’s Luke, of course. If for some reason he had to have sex with someone, it would be Luke, but he’s not planning on it anytime soon.

Still, he can feel his cheeks flush at the implication.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll see about that.”

“Do you want us to leave you the house?” she offers offhandedly, moving the cart along, and Michael hurries to shake his head. So she was thinking that. Huh.

“No, no no. No need for that. Maybe I can borrow one of the cars, though?” he tries.

His mom smiles. She looks relieved. “Of course honey. Whatever you need, I just want you to be happy.”

 _Don’t know how to do that if I’m destined to be all alone,_ he thinks, but he thanks her and they go on with their shopping.

* * *

Right after lunch, Michael tells Luke he’s booked them a spot to go outdoor bowling in the city, and to put some light clothes on. Luke doesn’t even question him, just smiles and looks at him with a hint of relief in his eyes, before almost running to Michael’s room.

Michael can’t help but feel his own shoulders slouch as he grabs some snacks and water bottles and puts them in his mom’s car. Honestly, he doesn’t drive as much as he wishes, and he might be absolutely terrible at it and fuck something up — he really hopes he doesn’t — but he is well intent on taking Luke to this bowling place. He’s never been, but he remembers hearing about it at college, and he’s sure it’s gonna be fun.

Once everything is set, he goes back inside to get Luke, but he stops in the hallway outside of his room when he hears Luke and Jack talking.

“Why can’t I come with you?” Jack asks. Michael is a little confused by the question paired with the teasing tone in his voice.

“Because,” Luke says, the sound of him moving around the room probably getting his backpack ready making Michael smile. “It’s just… Michael asked if we could hang out just the two of us. _You_ are not invited.”

“So it’s a date?” Jack asks, clearly teasing, and Michael’s heart effectively stops.

“What the fuck, Jack, of course not. You know that,” Luke bites, everything silent.

If Jack’s words had caused Michael’s heart to stop beating, then Luke’s wrap themselves around it like barbed wire, sharp and biting. It’s not really a surprise anymore, but hearing loud and clear that Luke doesn’t want to go on a date with him makes the pain of it all bleed even more carelessly. Shit, not the time.

“Whatever, kid,” Jack sighs after too long. “I still think you’re being an idiot, though.”

“You’re the idiot,” Luke mumbles.

Michael can hear them both getting out of the room, so he clears his throat and pretends he’s just coming around the corner.

“Oh, Luke,” he says with a smile, because everything is just peachy. He can do this. “Everything ready?”

Luke nods, showing him his bag, and together they move to the car, matching snapbacks on their heads. Michael wishes Luke would wear his more often, but then again, maybe what he should wish for is for Luke to become really ugly so that Michael’s entire being would stop this stupid attraction.

(He’s really fooling himself if he thinks Luke losing all his physical charms would make him suddenly fall out of love; it’s never been about that. Luke being pretty is just the cherry on top.)

The ride isn’t as awkward as Michael had feared, the both of them talking and arguing over how bad the songs on the radio are. That almost makes Michael want to cry, but instead he just lets himself smile out the window and argue louder.

They get to the bowling alley fairly quickly, parking and getting to the reception to get a pass for their game as well as boards to write their scores on. It’s weird, not having the screens and not being in the dark, but Michael is already grateful for the fresh air, no matter how hot it actually is.

They start playing, making fun of each other as they fail to get used to how the ball rolls on the sand, and Michael is glad to see Luke is having fun. He keeps laughing, and being hyper excited whenever he does manage to knock some pins down, and his eyes — which are so, so pretty and bright under the sun — are glinting with unadulterated happiness.

He almost doesn’t want to disturb this, but there are still things he needs to say.

“Luke?” he asks. They’re taking a quick break to have some water, sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“Yeah?”

“Okay just... I don’t know what went wrong, last week. I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day, that really wasn’t my intention. I don’t know what happened there.” He takes a deep breath, and says what he wishes he’d never had to. “Can we be friends and not make this awkward? Please? Cause I’m very happy you’re here, and this is kinda ruining it.”

 _So is the fact that you don’t wanna be with me anymore,_ he doesn’t say, but thinks it so loud everyone must be able to hear it. Everyone but Luke, hopefully.

But, there. Michael can be the better man, if Luke won’t be. An _adult,_ no matter how much that sucks.

“No, you’re right, I agree,” Luke says, a little too quickly for Michael’s taste. He tries not to be too disappointed that Luke doesn’t even try to be more than friends, but he does his best not to show it.

He’s been thinking about what Calum said. It hurts like hell to think about Luke having ended the relationship on his own without even bothering to inform Michael of it, but he can’t dwell on it now. He’s going to enjoy the next few weeks he has with Luke, even if he has to do so as a friend. If his heart breaks too much, he’ll just take his time to mend it once Luke is gone.

“I’m sorry too,” Luke goes on. “I think I’m the one who made this awkward, so. Can we forget about that?”

Michael swallows, puts on a smile he hopes doesn’t look too fake. “Yeah, sure. Forgotten.”

Luke seems to hesitate for a second, then puts down his water bottle, gets up and opens his arms. “Hug?”

It’s not Michael’s fault that he’s been so desperate for this that he goes a little too quickly, wrapping his arms around Luke’s neck, relishing in the slight chuckle Luke lets out. The embrace doesn’t last too long, because it’s really fucking hot under the sun, so they quickly break apart so as not to melt into each other. Not that Michael would have minded making one with Luke.

Fuck, he needs to stop nurturing these thoughts, dammit. _Friends._

They continue playing, Luke teasing Michael for how bad he is.

“You know Luke,” Michael says, throwing the ball. “You can tell me if Ashton is your boyfriend.”

No pin gets knocked down, unfortunately, so Michael turns to Luke, who seems uneasy.

“Well, I don’t–”

“I won’t be mad. I’m more upset that you didn’t tell me.” It’s only partly true, but there’s no way Michael is gonna be emotionally vulnerable now. If Luke has moved on, Michael can pretend he’s unaffected by it.

Luke sighs, picks up a ball on the ground. “We’re not exactly a thing, okay? It’s more like. I don’t know.”

There’s no way for Michael to tell how much truth there is in this, but he does his best to believe Luke, give him the benefit of the doubt. He watches Luke throw the ball, then muttering a _yes_ when he gets a strike before writing down his score.

“You forgot to write your score after your last throw,” he tells Michael, who picks up his board to write down a mocking 0.

“How long have you known him for?” he asks Luke.

“About six months.”

Michael opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Luke interrupts him. 

“Can we talk about something else?” he says, almost pleading.

Michael can’t tell him no, not with this face, and not if it means they’ll just have more fun.

“Sure,” Michael agrees, and just like that the topic is dropped.

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing in good spirits, taking breaks here and there. Luke asks about Calum and if they’re still hanging out next week. Michael is excited to have them both together with him. He has to ignore the hollow feeling that starts expanding in his chest at the thought that hanging out with Luke and Calum will be like old times yet so different. For once he’ll miss having Calum roll his eyes and telling them off for ignoring him and focusing on each other too much.

He ignores it, pushes the thought down. What matters is that Luke is here, he tells himself, and sends Luke a smile, focusing on the game, and on this beautiful day.

Michael loses every round, but Luke’s carefree laughter is the only price he cares for.

* * *

Somehow, Luke manages to get invited to a New Year’s Eve party on the day of by high school people that Michael had completely forgotten about.

And somehow, Michael lets himself be dragged to it. He didn’t want to; he hates parties, especially parties where he doesn't really know anybody. But Luke had almost pleaded, claimed he didn’t really feel comfortable going by himself, and that it would be a shame not to spend New Year's eve together. 

Of course Michael fell for that. He's been desperate for any moment with Luke, especially when Luke is the one asking to hang out. It's lame, and fucking pitiful, how easily he still caves to Luke after being rejected without any explanation. 

The past few days have been a little better, though. Michael's heart still breaks every time Luke doesn't take his hand in his, his eyes still water when Luke waves a hand goodnight as he gets into the mattress instead of kissing Michael softly and wrapping himself around him. It all still hurts, but at least it's not awkward because of the incident anymore. 

And yes, Michael is pretty sure Luke is lying about Ashton, because he's constantly texting or calling him (" _Get off your fucking phone, man, that's so disrespectful_ ," Jack keeps telling him) but that's just a little detail that Michael is willing to ignore.

The house they’re going to belongs to someone called Marvin that Michael honest to god cannot place at all; it’s fucking huge. Probably three times the size of his own house, he reckons, which is almost intimidating, but he’s glad that it might mean it won’t be too cramped.

"Oh fuck, there's a lot of people," Michael shouts, the huge living room loud with music and — hopefully not drunk yet — chatter.

"You know, I think that's what they call a party," Luke teases. Michael rolls his eyes, refuses the drink someone hands him. Luke takes one though, and they venture further into the house, grazing too hot skin of sweaty people.

Everyone’s in shorts or skirts or dresses, including Michael but for some reason, Luke had thought it a good idea to put on a pair of his black skinny jeans. Michael has told him it wasn’t, but Luke insisted that he wanted to wear this dress shirt and that it only looked good with this pair of pants.

And, yeah, it does look fucking good, alright. Luke is an absolute dream, the teal satin shirt bringing out the blue of his eyes. He’s probably the only guy who’s gonna be dressed so well, and Michael already knows everyone is going to drool over him. No matter what Michael says, he’s incredibly salty about the fact that he can’t show everyone that this gorgeous man is his.

Because he’s _not_. He’s not, and Luke won’t say why — Michael knows he could ask, but he doesn’t want to ruin it now that it’s better between them — and that hurts, but it’s whatever. Michael can do this. Luke wants to hang out, so that has to count for something, right?

“You go to lots of parties over there?” Michael asks. 

“Here and there, yeah,” Luke says. Michael can barely hear him, but he sees him shrug. “They’re fun, and it’s how I met a lot of the people I hang out with.”

 _Is that how you met Ashton?_ Michael wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to risk bringing the mood down when they just got here.

“You don’t party much?” Luke asks. 

“No, I never really have much fun.”

Luke stops in his tracks, a hand on Michael’s arm. Michael looks down at it, Luke’s hand on his bare skin, a chill running up and down his body. Or maybe it’s electricity; Michael’s wouldn’t be surprised that Luke’s touch would have the power to do that. “And you didn’t think to tell me that when I asked you to come?”

Michael shrugs. “Well you really seemed like you wanted to go, and you’re right, it would be a shame not to spend the night together.”

“Who’s spending the night together?”

Michael almost jumps at the arm that wraps itself around his shoulder. He can see Luke’s own shoulders have fallen victim to the other arm, but Luke doesn’t look as confused.

“Oh, Tommy,” Luke says, nodding his head in greeting. Michael vaguely remembers Tommy as the guy who invited Luke. “Thanks for the invite.”

“You’re more than welcome, mate,” Tommy says before looking at Michael. His arm feels too heavy. “You Michael, then?” Michael nods. “Sorry mate, I can’t say I remember you.”

Michael scoffs. “Yeah, no worries, that’s mutual.”

He seems satisfied by that answer, and removes his arm from them to take hold of their wrists. “Come, let me introduce you to some people, then.”

And so they get dragged around the house to meet a few people that Michael only vaguely remembers the faces of, and while Michael barely gets a nod of the head, Luke is greeted with claps on the back and hugs from everyone. 

"When the fuck did you become so popular?" Michael gasps. 

"I honestly have no clue. I think they might just think it's cool that I live in the states," Luke supposes, which is a good point, actually. 

“Well, that’s not what’s cool about you, but whatever,” Michael says, eyes not meeting Luke’s.

“Oh, what’s cool about me?” Luke asks, raising an eyebrow at the same time as his drink.

“I am not going to indulge you in your fishing for compliments,” Michael says. He tries to sound teasing, but he’s afraid he sounds a bit petulant, so he clears his throat.

“Come with me, I want to see if I can find some lame thing to drink around here,” he says, and this time he’s the one who drags Luke to the kitchen.

It’s not as loud in here, though there are still quite a few people talking, some people doing a poor job of hiding the fact that they’re making out. Michael can’t help but glare at them as he pours himself some juice. He would have liked this party better if he could have spent it attached to Luke’s lips.

“You got your drink?” Luke asks.

At Michael’s nod, Luke beckons him back to the living room, where even more people have appeared somehow. So much for the space not being cramped.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks when Luke starts moving a little, in the crowd of people.

“We’re dancing, come on,” Luke shouts over the music.

“No way,” Michael shouts back.

“Don’t be lame, come dance with me!”

“I can’t dance!” Michael complains, ignoring the way his stupid heart flutters at the _with me._

“Me neither,” Luke says. To prove his point, he makes a ridiculous move, almost spilling his drink in the process. Michael can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “You need to embrace it.”

“It’s ridiculous.” Michael shakes his head, clutching his drink to his chest.

“Everyone is ridiculous,” Luke says, and as Michael looks around, he has to admit Luke has a point. There’s a couple of people that obviously know what they’re doing, but they’re clearly the exception.

“I don’t know,” Michael says still.

Luke stops moving, then sighs, coming up to Michael.

“Please, you’re not gonna stay on your own all night, are you? You should come have some fun,” he says, taking Michael’s hand in his. Michael’s blood goes cold before it feels like it’s bursting into flames. He hates to think that Luke’s hand still fits perfectly in his.

“Luke–”

“Besides,” Luke says. “Soon everyone will be too drunk to care about any of that.”

That makes sense, once again, so he doesn’t resist when Luke pulls him further into the crowd. His hand is sweaty, but Michael is sure his own is, too. It’s gone too soon when they reach what feels like the centre of the room and Luke starts dancing again, moving his head and his hips and jumping around.

Michael has no choice but to shyly mirror him, feeling incredibly uneasy. This isn’t something he’s used to, and his body is incredibly awkward, especially when he keeps bumping into others, whether it be Luke or someone he doesn’t know.

It takes a while for him to warm up to all this, but at some point, he realizes Luke was right. Everyone (except him) is getting more and more inebriated by the hour, and contrary to what Michael would have thought, that makes him feel more at ease.

Everyone is suddenly a bit more loose and friendly; they talk to him, make him dance with them, tell him anecdotes he barely understands, and it’s kinda fun. Luke never strays far away from him, and when Michael feels like he’s starting to he just makes his way to him again.

Luke is also getting drunk, which is strange; Michael has never seen him like that before. Although, he’s relieved to see he isn’t completely trashed, just seems a little more bubbly and handsy. Michael can’t say he’s not jealous to see him dance so close to people though, especially when two girls keep coming back to him.

Thankfully Luke just seems to find it funny, Michael can see it on his face. He must be used to girls being all over him, he thinks. It’s too bad they’ll never have him since he’ll never be interested in them.

 _You’re kind of in the same situation as them right now,_ an annoying voice in his head tells him, and he forces it to shut up instantly.

At some point Luke seems to have enough, and he whispers something to the two girls which makes them move somewhere else. For a second, Michael’s treacherous brain imagines him telling them that it’s because he has to go back to his boyfriend, his boyfriend being Michael. He tries to shake the thought, but it’s hard when Luke walks towards him.

“How’s it going?” he asks when he gets to him.

The smile on his cheeks is too bright for this dark room, and his rosy cheeks somehow make his eyes more blue. Michael might be imagining it, though, because there’s not enough light to tell if he’s right.

Michael shrugs. “It’s fun,” he says and he’s happy to say that he’s not lying.

“Good,” Luke replies, smile getting bigger. “I need the bathroom.”

“Okay, see you in a sec?” Michael says, heart getting faster at the idea of Luke being out of his sight.

Luke shakes his head. “Come with me, I don’t know where it is. And it’s kinda spinning a bit.”

Michael is quick to agree, and together they go in search of the bathroom. It’s not too hard to find, but he does have to make sure Luke walks straight with a hand on his elbow, so he’s glad he’s here. And that at the very least Luke trusts him when he’s not completely lucid. 

Luke does his business and washes his hands, and then comes back out only to put his wet hands on Michael’s cheeks.

“Luke, what the hell,” Michael grumbles, Luke’s laugh reverberating down his spine.

“It’s payback!”

“For what?”

“For that day I got here,” Luke says. “You ruined my shirt with your soapy hands.”

Michael rolls his eyes, trying to wipe his face. “I didn’t ruin your shirt, it’s _soap_.”

Luke just waves him off before asking him to dance again.

“Can’t we just sit down for a minute?” Michael whines. His feet are starting to hurt.

“Please, Michael, I love dancing,” Luke pleads, his face far too adorable to be real. “It’s gonna strike midnight in less than an hour, too, come on!”

And, well. Michael still isn’t able to say no to Luke, so they move back to the main dancing area. Maybe it’s because of the little break in the silence of the bathroom and the back of the house, but everything feels louder and more sweaty and more intense, somehow, and he doesn’t think he can take Luke being too far from him.

“Stay with me,” he says before he can stop himself, wincing at how desperate he sounds.

Luke just nods though, giving him a lopsided smile and coming closer to him. His eyes are glinting, with the shimmering lights and with what he’s drunk too, possibly, which has Michael’s breath catching in his chest. Luke is getting so close to him, so slowly Michael would have missed it if he didn’t also _feel_ him doing so. Because no matter what, he’s tuned to Luke, at all times of the day.

Before he knows it, Luke’s as close as he can get, almost plastered to Michael’s front. Shit. Shit. Michael feels like he’s played this scene before, and he didn’t like the way it ended. But Luke loops an arm around Michael’s shoulders, the other up in the air as he shout-sings along to a song Michael doesn’t recognize, body hot against Michael’s.

And boy, Michael’s body is hyperaware. Of the way Luke dances, so close, every movement sliding against him. Of the people around them bumping into him and bringing him closer, if possible. Of the look in Luke’s eyes, heavy and focused despite his gaze not having been able to focus for a while now, similar to that day in the pool, just like the electricity cackling in the air.

It’s like a little bubble, filled only with the two of them, and Michael swears he’s never had a drop of alcohol in his life but he feels drunk on the feeling of having Luke just to himself.

They stay like that for quite a while, how long exactly Michael doesn’t know, but he barely hears any of the music, doesn’t even care when people stomp on him or when a drink gets spilled on his arm.

Out of nowhere, he feels Luke’s arm slip from around his shoulder, but before Michael can be too put out by it he feels Luke’s hand on his waist, casually resting. It has Michael feeling breathless — again — and he wants to say something but Luke is still dancing, stepping on Michael’s feet every so often, so he just takes a deep breath and tries to do the same.

But Luke’s hand isn’t staying on his waist, instead sliding down to his hip and lingering there for a second, making Michael's movements stop, before moving up to rest against Michael’s chest. Michael can feel the heat of it through his shirt; it has nothing on the heat in Luke’s eyes, though. It’s burning so nice that Michael never wants to cool down.

It takes him a minute to realize that they’ve stopped moving altogether. Luke is just standing there in front of him with his hand on Michael’s chest, which is heaving, Michael notes. His own hands are awkwardly balancing at his sides, itching to reach out. He doesn’t know why they aren’t. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything stopping him from doing so at the moment.

A loud noise makes Michael blink, and then everyone is screaming before shouting “30! 29! 28!” and oh. _Oh._ It’s almost the new year, and Luke is here, unbothered by the screams, leaning forward slightly. Shit. It’s what Michael has been trying not to dream about. But it’s here, finally, so he lets his hands settle on Luke’s hips, slightly unsure.

“21! 20!”

Michael wants to cheat, to bring his lips to Luke’s right now, but the poetry of starting over and getting their shit together at the beginning of the year doesn’t escape him, so he waits patiently, instead letting a dumb smile spread out on his face.

Until he feels something vibrate against his leg. He frowns, because he’s sure his phone is in his back pocket, but then Luke looks down and takes his phone from his own pocket, and oh. The guilty look Luke sends his way tells him all he needs to know, and dammit Michael can’t be broken down again.

“12! 11!”

“Who is it?” he chokes out, gripping Luke’s wrist tightly before he can get away.

“Michael–”

“It’s Ashton, isn’t it?” He can’t hide the tremble in his voice this time, and he knows that Luke is hearing him loud and clear despite him almost whispering the words.

The lack of answer is answer enough, shattering Michael’s heart in infinite pieces as he’s left alone, Luke bringing the phone to his ear before he’s even out of Michael’s sight.

“5!”

The lump in his throat rises ever so slowly, obstructing any attempt he could make at counting down with everyone else if he felt like it. He doesn’t.

“4!”

The crowd of people is loud, too loud, the soundwaves oppressing Michael’s eardrums.

“3!”

The people around him are starting to hug their friends closer, hold their partners tighter, as a reminder that Michael is alone. He’s so alone.

“2!”

He brings his hand to his throat, as if that would make breathing any easier.

“1!”

It doesn’t, and he almost chokes on the sob that tries to escape him as an eruption of _Happy New Year!_ happens around him, because it’s too much. He didn’t do anything to deserve this.

With a resigned shake of his head he ignores the tears newly obscuring his vision and makes his way past the happy crowd of people kissing and taking each other in their arms. He doesn’t know what he intends to do, but he needs to escape now that the bubble has burst.

“Need something, buddy?” someone asks when he’s made it to a hallway that’s not as deserted as he’d hoped.

Michael frowns, then notices the couple of bottles in the guy’s hands. He should say no. There isn’t even a label on the bottles, and he doesn’t know how his body is going to react to this.

“Yeah, gimme that,” he says. His wobbly voice must tell the guy how much like shit Michael is feeling, because he doesn’t resist when Michael takes one of the bottles from his hands and takes a large gulp right there.

“Fuck, this is disgusting,” he says, coughing. “I’ll keep it.”

The guy gives him a look, then shrugs and leaves, just like that.

“Well,” Michael says to himself, chuckling through his tears as he brings the bottle to his lips once again. “Fuck you, Luke Hemmings.”  
  
  
—  
  
  
Luke finds him roughly three hours later, drunk off his ass, lying on the floor with his head resting on the edge of a bed where two people are asleep. They probably fucked before he got here god knows how long ago, Michael thinks as a hiccup racks his body.

“Mike?” Luke whispers as he enters the room. It’s dark but Michael would have known it was him even if he hadn’t spoken.

When Michael doesn’t answer, Luke moves further into the room until he’s crouching next to him. Michael swats away the hand that comes on his shoulder immediately.

“Michael–”

“Leave me alone,” he slurs before coughing into the bedding.

Both him and Luke freeze when the bodies on the bed stir at the noise, but thankfully they don’t wake up, and Michael exhales.

“Mike, we should go home.”

“Yeah you should,” Michael replies, and he can hear the harshness of the words despite the state of his voice. “I’m sure there’s a flight waiting for you, you should hop on that.”

There’s silence then, an uncomfortable one. Michael continues staring blankly at the wall that he can’t even see because it’s so dark, and then Luke sighs.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” he says, which, ouch. Not even a fight, alright. “But I’m going back to yours, so you need to get up.”

Michael doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to move, and he doesn’t want to see Luke, and he doesn’t want to think about him. He wants another drink, but the bottle’s been empty for a little while.

He could ask someone to drive him home in the morning, he thinks fleetingly, but he figures it’s not worth it. He can just ignore Luke. He doesn’t have to talk to him.

Which is why he gets up slowly, pushing Luke away when he tries to help him. It’s a hassle, going down the stairs; it takes ages, using the wall as a support, but Luke doesn’t try to touch him again.

The drive is tense, the silence deafening despite the radio being on. The thought comes to Michael’s mind that Luke is probably not in the right state to drive, and if they get caught he’s going to be in trouble, but Michael can’t be bothered to care. He just wants to go home and curl up in his bed. And he wants Calum here, not Luke.

They manage to be silent getting into the house, even if it takes Michael too many tries to unlock the door, and Michael almost runs to his room, flopping down on the bed. He falls asleep almost instantly, barely registering that Luke didn’t follow him to the room.

* * *

“You look like shit,” is how Calum greets him when they meet up at their favourite coffee shop in town, before engulfing Michael in his arms.

“I know,” Michael says, voice muffled against Calum’s neck. He doesn’t have the energy to be offended, especially when Calum is right.

“I missed your stupid ass,” Calum says, too sincere for the words coming out of his mouth.

Despite the heat, Michael clings to Calum hard, holding his best friend tight. He inhales the scent that is so incredibly familiar and comforting like it has been since they were kids, some of the emotional weight leaving his body.

“Missed you too,” Michael replies easily before they let go of each other. 

“You wanna get us a table?” Calum asks. “I'll go order for us.”

“Sounds good,” Michael agrees.

“The usual, yeah?” 

Michael nods, and with a smile Calum disappears inside while Michael picks one of the remaining empty tables on the terrace. He lets out a groan, hiding his face in his hands.

Yesterday was hell, there’s no other way to put it. He hadn’t planned on ever being hungover, so he really wasn’t expecting the way his head was killing him and spending way too much time emptying his stomach in the toilet.

His mom, bless her, stayed with him for hours, rubbing his back and scratching his head and bringing him water. She stopped asking what possessed him to get so smashed when he just started crying the first time she asked. She just hugged him and told him it was okay, and made him promise to come to her if he couldn’t figure it out on his own. Michael fucking loves his mom.

“Drinks ordered,” Calum says, sitting down across from him, and Michael regretfully lifts his head.

“Thanks,” Michael says.

“Don’t mention it.”

Calum is wearing a new shirt that Michael thinks is pretty cool, so Michael asks him about that, and to his surprise, Calum indulges him. He talks about that, and then goes on about the guys on the team, and about how he almost sprained his ankle with a wrong move and on and on.

Michael lets himself be lulled by Calum’s deep voice and the tales of the life Michael can’t witness. He lets an honest smile paint his face when Calum retells stories of his grandparents, because Calum’s own smile at the love he holds for them is infectious. It’s clear Calum needed this break; connecting with his roots has always been important to him. He’s always said his soul always felt refreshed and boosted whenever he went over there.

Of course, the distraction can only last so long, and once the barista has brought Calum’s coffee and Michael’s tea, Calum directs the conversation to new year’s eve, and to Luke.

“I feel like such an idiot,” Michael sighs. It’s the main thing he’s been feeling, beside the obvious sadness and confusion.

"You're not an idiot,” Calum defends, because of course he would. “It's Luke who's a fucking cunt."

"Hey, don't say that!" 

Calum takes a sip of his coffee and gives Michael a look. "Am I wrong? He's been giving you mixed signals, flirting with you, and won’t even admit he’s with someone else. Which, by the way, it kinda means he’s messing with that Ashton dude behind his back, too. So yeah, that’s a fucking cunt to me."

"I thought he was your friend," Michael grumbles half heartedly. Calum’s words aren’t lost on him, though, because he’s been thinking all of that already.

"Dude, I haven't spoken to him since he left. We both loved you more than we liked each other, you know," Calum admits with a shrug.

"Oh." Michael frowns into his drink. He wasn’t expecting this. “You never said anything, though.”

Calum scoffs, hitting Michael’s shin lightly. “Mike, you were mad in love with him, I wasn’t gonna do that to you when there was no legitimate reason for me to feel off about him. Like, genuinely, we didn’t vibe too much, but that was it. And I don’t hate him, you know. Or well, I didn’t. Now might be a different story.”

His voice is a little harder, his jaw set like when he’s angry. It’s his I’m-getting-ready-to-beat-this-other-team-at-this-game face. It’s the serious face.

Michael sighs, thinks about hating Luke for a brief second, and somehow that twists his stomach more than the heartbreak currently plaguing him is. “I can’t even hate him, no matter what. I mean, I’m mad as fuck at him, and I don’t fucking understand what the fuck he’s playing at, but I can’t hate him. Love him too much for that.”

He mumbles that last part to himself, but he can tell by the sorry look on Calum’s face that he heard him.

“You need to get over him.” Michael opens his mouth to protest, but Calum shakes his head. “I know, it’s easier said than done. But you deserve better than this, Mike. You’ve been crying on me for two years cause you missed him so bad, just waiting for the moment you’d be together again, and what has he been doing? Getting with someone else.”

Calum is right. Michael hates that Calum is right.

“I have no fucking clue how to move on. Especially since he’s literally living with me right now. Hell, he’s sleeping in my room.”

“Well, I can come hang out more often, if you’d like,” Calum offers. “Distract you a little.”

“You just said he’s a cunt and you hate him,” Michael says.

Calum rolls his eyes. “I _can_ be civil, you know. I’ll just throw imaginative daggers at him and he’ll leave us alone. But I’ll be nice if I talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asks, and Calum knows that means he’s agreed.

“I’ll come by tomorrow and bring my bass.”

“You still have it?” Michael asks in wonder.

“Well,” Calum says with a chuckle. “It’s actually been in my closet for like 4 years, but yeah. I think I might still be decent at it.”

“Hell yeah, can’t wait.”

Michael’s smile is sincere, and for the remainder of the afternoon, with his best friend here under the sun at their favourite place, he’s able to pretend life isn’t a shitshow.

* * *

It had completely escaped Michael that this would be the case, but he doesn't see Luke for the rest of the week. He’s the one going to his grandparents’ this time, just on the outskirts of town.

It’s both a relief and the worst thing to happen to Michael. Maybe he’s slightly masochist, but he’d rather have a closed off Luke close to him and not be able to reach out to him than have him away. Because suddenly, he’s back in his college dorm, all alone and filled with sorrow at the idea of possibly never seeing Luke again.

“Did you know I used to write him letters?” Michael tells Calum. They’re both lying on Michael’s bed; it’s a bit cramped, and it’s too hot, but they make it work — reason why it’s also a shot to the heart, because it’s clear that if Luke had wanted to he would have been able to fit with him, especially since they’d cuddle closer than him and Calum are right now.

It’s been raining all day, so it’s been really humid; they’ve been able to open the widows, but going outside probably wouldn't be a good idea. So they’ve just been huddling inside, mainly in Michael’s room, playing music and video games, the chatter of Michael’s parents a nice background noise that reminds Michael of being thirteen and having Calum over.

“Did you really? What did you say?” Calum asks, tracing random patterns on Michael’s shoulder.

“Like, everything,” Michael starts. “But I’d mostly talk about how much I missed him, what I thought we could do together if he came back, or if by some miracle I met him overseas. Told him how much I loved him.”

Calum hums. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing.” Calum’s fingers stop on his skin. “I never sent him the letters.”

There’s a beat where no one says anything, the soft but relentless rain falling on the roof the only sound filling the space.

“What?” Calum says finally, resuming his ministrations on Michael’s shoulder. “Why?”

There are a couple reasons why, one of them being that he was too afraid of Luke witnessing this emotionally vulnerable version of him, but when he tries to articulate any of it, it just sounds meaningless and like it doesn’t even make sense.

“I don’t even know anymore,” he settles on. “Do you think it would have been different if I’d sent them?”

“I don’t know, Mike,” Calum sighs. “I don’t know.”

Michael has nothing to say to that, so he just sighs, holds Calum probably a little tighter than he ought to. Calum doesn’t seem to mind though, so Michael relaxes against him, his mind unsurprisingly wandering back to Luke.

He starts wondering if maybe all of this isn’t only Luke’s fault. If maybe, just maybe, had Michael sent those letters, Luke wouldn’t have lost that connection to Michael the way he seems to have. If Michael had put himself more out there, if he’d been more open about his struggles, if he hadn’t pretended everything was okay on his end just like it was for Luke, if he’d been more insistent in telling Luke he loved him; would Luke have stopped saying _I love you_ then, as well?

Michael shakes his head. That’s not even the only issue. Luke just decided he could move on and not tell Michael about it; that’s incredibly fucked up no matter what.

When Calum goes home that night, after a crushing hug and a promise to come back tomorrow, Michael is left with his mom’s sorry stare and his dad’s confused one, so he excuses himself to go back to his room.

He’s pretty sure his mom has figured out that the issue is Luke-related, but thankfully she hasn’t asked any question, just sent him looks clearly telling him that he can talk to her if he needs, which he appreciates. He’s just not sure he could even talk to her.

He sits on his bed doing nothing for a while, just staring at the wall, questioning what he’s done wrong to get to this. For the universe to punish him that way by letting the love of his life fall out of love with him and not even bother to tell him.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself.

He gets up and racks through his desk for a sheet of paper. Fortunately he brought a lot of school stuff with him, even if he hasn’t been looking at anything — and Jesus, being reminded that college starts back up in a month isn’t really making his day better, but he pushes the thought away to deal with later.

“There we go.”

He finds a stack of blank paper that will do just fine, and plops down on his chair at the desk with a pen that’s been munched on too many times. _Dear Luke_ , he writes at the top, and then just lets out a deep sigh. He can do this. Luke will never see this, just like all the other letters hidden in his dorm.

It’s easy, once he decides to let the words flow unfiltered. He’s sent back to being nineteen and spending way too long writing all of these, pouring his feelings and insecurities onto the page for himself to see. His version of a journal, he supposes.

Before long the page is filled with what he should but most likely will never say to Luke. Tells him about how it’s unfair that he all but left Michael for the U.S. more than geographically. How it’s unfair that all this time, Michael thought Luke just had an easier time regulating his feelings of loneliness because this new world was exciting, when in fact he was just moving on and falling in love with new friends and with Ashton.

He tells him everything, imagines himself screaming the words at Luke’s face so that he understands how betrayed Michael feels, that Luke wasn’t considerate enough to be honest with him. Still isn’t, since Michael has had to draw his own conclusions about Ashton.

When he’s done, ink filling the entire page clumsily, he feels exhausted, but also relieved, and a little more grounded. He doesn’t know what therapy is like, but he feels like that’s exactly what he did; his own little therapy session.

He hides everything away, then lets out a sated sigh. Maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep without staining his pillowcase with salty tears.

* * *

Calum comes by everyday until the Hemmings come back. Michael is really fucking grateful for it, though he doubts Calum isn’t getting tired of hearing him complain all the time.

It’s finally stopped raining, so today they’re both hanging out on the grass by the pool, a deck of cards between them.

“Wanna help me out with something?” Michael asks, sipping on his milkshake. Calum insisted they tried making some, and he isn’t disappointed with the results.

“Huh, sure,” Calum agrees, because when does he not, but he sounds hesitant. “With what?”

“Can we use your account to find Ashton on Insta?”

“What? Mike, no,” Calum starts, shaking his head and putting his cards on the ground. “That’s not a good idea. You really wanna hurt yourself that bad?”

Michael shrugs. “I just wanna know what he looks like.”

“And what good is that gonna do you? Seriously.”

“Look, just. Please? It’s just curiosity,” Michael promises.

“You don’t even know if he has an account,” Calum tries.

“Won’t know if I don’t look, will I? Please. I could look on my own, but I’m scared to like, accidentally like a post or something. Plus, if you’re here while I do it, I won’t, like. Wallow in my misery too much.”

The sigh that escapes Calum lets Michael know he’s won. He knows Calum too well.

It’s not easy. Calum’s phone is really slow, for starters — though Calum assures him he’s just too impatient — and Michael has no clue what Ashton’s last name is. And there are lots of Ashtons on this app.

After many tries he remembers to look through his and Luke’s texts, figuring he must have gotten the name of at least one of his other friends at some point over the past year or so, and then he can go from there, surely.

“Got one,” Michael says when he finds Sierra’s full name from that first time Luke told him about her.

“Even if she hasn’t put her full name on here, I feel like she has a unique enough first name that we could find her,” Calum says, always encouraging.

He’s not wrong. They manage to find her without too much trouble, because, thankfully, she did put her full name on the app. Her bio says she lives in NYC, too, so Michael is a hundred percent sure this is her, and oh.

“She’s pretty,” Michael says over Calum’s shoulder, and Calum hums in agreeance, scrolling down her feed.

She’s really fucking pretty, Michael thinks every time Calum opens a picture. She has kind almond eyes and long black hair, her skin a beautiful shade of gold, maybe a tone darker than Calum’s. Michael would probably be intimidated by her beauty if he were to stand next to her. And next to her really cool punk rock girlfriend. (To be fair, he’s usually extremely intimidated by women in general. He’s just never been good at talking to them because he’s an idiot and they all look so smart in every sense of the word. Anyway.)

They don’t find Ashton through her, but they do find someone called Alex and someone called Zack that look like they could be Luke’s friends that he’s talked about, so they go through their profiles as well. Michael feels a bit bitter at the proof that Luke looks like he has so many cool American friends, but he shakes it. It’s not these people’s fault.

They have to go through a few other people, Michael getting anxious for no reason when it looks like the chances of finding Ashton are becoming more slim, but he tells Calum to continue looking.

And he’s glad they do, because it’s possible they find him through someone Michael hasn’t heard about before.

“Bio says he’s twenty-two,” Michael says, holding his breath as he looks at the profile picture. “Do you think it might still be him?” 

Calum shrugs. They’ve moved to sit with their legs in the pool, because Michael was complaining about the heat. “I don't know, scroll down the pictures.” 

“You’re the one holding the phone, Cal.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

So Calum does, scrolling down until he finds the proof that this is who they’ve been looking for; what looks like a party picture from August, that has this Ashton surrounded by a dozen people, and _Luke_. Luke, in the same skin tight jeans and worn black converse, a stupid hot James Dean look in his eyes, still short curls framing his beautiful face. Luke, with his arm around Ashton’s neck.

Michael can feel Calum’s gaze on him in the silence that is suddenly surrounding them, but Michael can’t look up at him. His own eyes are focused on Ashton, and fuck he’s an absolute work of art. He has curls similar to Luke’s on his head, though a bit more styled. The dimples on his face, result of the huge smile he’s sporting, make him extremely charming and adorable. He’s almost pretty enough to rival luke.

Michael asks Calum to show him more pictures of Ashton, and that just confirms these thoughts. Ashton is absolutely gorgeous. Of fucking course Michael had nothing on him. He really can’t blame Luke for choosing him.

“Can you go back to that one pic?” He asks Calum, who opens the party picture again.

Michael clicks on it, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing that Luke isn’t tagged on it. He doesn’t think he would have been able to bear Luke lying about having an account.

“You okay?” Calum asks. Michael can only shrug.

“It’s whatever,” he says, though he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince. “Should have expected Luke would go for a fucking heartthrob who also looks like he’s a dork. And who plays the drums. And who has cool tattoos.”

“You have cool tattoos.”

“Yeah, but Luke only mentioned the armband one offhandedly like, once. Didn’t seem too impressed by them,” Michael sighs.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to look for him,” Calum says.

“It’s whatever,” Michael repeats, taking Calum’s phone from him and throwing it on the grass.

“Hey! You could have broken that.”

“No chance,” Michael shrugs off. “Come in the water with me?”

There’s a pause, like Calum wants to argue about the phone again, or maybe about something else, then he shakes his head and removes his shirt.

“Only if you promise you won’t try to kiss me,” he says, a grin on his face.

“Fuck you,” Michael retorts, removing his own shirt.

Calum only laughs, and pushes Michael in the water. Idiot. Michael loves his best friend.

* * *

Michael would like to think that, someday, he’ll be able to get better at keeping his feelings in check.

That day isn’t today.

As soon as the Hemmings (minus Jack) step foot in the house again, filling the space with laughter and loud voices, he can feel his heart start beating way too fast. Because, even from his room, he can hear Luke’s sweet laugh louder than his parents’. He wonders, for a second, if he’s just so tuned to Luke that he’ll recognize him no matter what happens, that his entire being will just be fucking powerless to ignore his presence and send his heart into a frenzy instead.

Suddenly Michael wishes he could reach inside his own chest and carve his heart out of it just to beat it for being so incredibly stupid and not knowing how to control itself. Luke doesn't deserve his poor, fragile heart going crazy for him.

He doesn’t go downstairs to meet anyone, and doesn’t come down for dinner. He realizes it might be a bit of an issue when it’s time to sleep and Luke has to join him in his room, but he decides that he’ll worry about that when the time comes. 

First, he tries to tune everything out by playing guitar. It usually works to soothe him, but when it just ends up reminding him of teaching Luke in the backyard and making his eyes water and his stomach clench, he has to admit defeat. Video games turn out to work better, so he settles on that, fingers a bit too fast on the trigger, not bothering to be methodical about any of his attacks.

The sun has set for a while already when Luke finally comes to the room. Michael barely greets him with a hello, too busy trying not to burst into tears thinking about Luke coming home to _Ashton_ and sleeping in _his_ bed and kissing _him_ goodnight, and–

Shit. He’s just been killed. Regretfully, he puts down his controller, forced to turn his head towards Luke. Luke, in jeans and barefoot, curls ruffled on his head, holding a plate with a sandwich and a bottle of water on it.

“Your mom made this for you,” he says with a short smile. “You should eat it.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, taking the plate from him, because what else is he supposed to do?

“Don’t mention it,” Luke replies before getting into the room.

Then Michael thinks of something.

“Why didn’t you go sleep in the guest room while Jack isn’t here?” he asks, maybe not kindly enough.

Luke huffs. “And tell our parents about this?”

“And what is this, exactly?”

The question seems to take Luke by surprise. He just blinks, but doesn’t say anything, just rubs his forehead and sighs, as if Michael is a fucking headache that he needs to get rid off. Well then.

Michael lets Luke set down all his stuff, then turns off his X-box before getting ready for bed while Luke does the same in the bathroom.

The night is restless, and so are the others after that. He keeps tossing and turning, constantly too aware of Luke’s presence back in his room. He’d be inclined to say that the dreams are the worst part, though; they’re plagued with visions of Luke that only turn into nightmares as soon as he wakes up because of how sweet and unattainable they are.

For the first time in his life, Michael finds himself wishing to never sleep again.

* * *

“Are you sure you can’t come?”

Michael can hear the distress in his own voice, which is really pathetic.

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” Calum says, and Michael doesn’t doubt it one second.

“No, don’t be,” he sighs. “This is literally your job, it’s okay. And you’ve done a lot already.”

He really has. He’s been hanging out with them for the past three days, coming to a museum he didn’t give a fuck about among other things, and glaring daggers at Luke like he’d said he would.

They’re all going laser tagging today, and Calum had said he’d come with them, but it turns out he has a last minute thing to see through with the team, and he had to cancel with them. Michael isn’t mad about it. Except he kind of is, but only because he won’t have a living distraction from Luke. He isn’t mad at _Calum_ , obviously, because when has he ever been? 

“Well, I’m still sorry,” Calum insists. “Besides, I really was looking forward to shooting him.”

“Cal!”

“What, he deserves it. I hope you end up on different teams and you can kill him for me. And for yourself, too. It’ll be cathartic, I promise.”

Somehow they do, in fact, end up on opposite teams. For a second Michael actually heavily suspects that it was Calum’s doing, before rolling his eyes at himself. Calum is way too busy to do anything like this. (He makes a mental note to ask him about it tonight, either way.)

There aren't enough of them, so they get put with a group of people that seem a bit older than Michael, maybe more around Jack's age — Jack seems to think the same thing, too.

Michael does his best to ignore Luke; he doesn’t do too bad, during the first game. It’s dark enough in the room that if he isn’t looking for him then he just plain doesn’t see him, and the two guys on his team that he doesn’t know are extremely competitive, coaxing Michael into coming up with strategies with them. They’re kinda cool (obviously, with nicknames like _pokekiller_ and _captainaustralia_ ), and it’s fun, and it does make them win more points, so Michael gets fully invested.

He even forgets for a moment that the dark isn’t his favourite place to be in, but he guesses this is different. The main reason why he doesn’t like it usually is because there are no distractions to prevent him from thinking too much and going into full breakdown mode, whether over classes or Luke. But here and now he couldn’t be more focused on the task at hand, so he lets himself have some fun and kill the blue team, not focusing on who it is he’s shooting at.

“Dude,” Jack says after the first game, breathless. “I kept getting the note on my gun that I’d been shot by _TheFinalFantasy_. You were killin’ it.”

“I’d say I was killing _you_ ,” Michael says. He’s just as breathless, a lot sweaty under his black clothes, but he feels light.

“Okay, fair enough,” Jack says. “You kill your dad much?”

Michael shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. Probably, but I didn’t really pay attention to who I was aiming at.”

Jack hums, before turning his head and letting out a sigh. Despite knowing what he’ll find Michael follows his gaze to where Luke is sitting at a booth, a frown on his face as he types on his phone.

The look on Jack’s face is almost pitying when he looks back at Michael. He can tell Jack is about to say something, but Michael shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Luke’s brother, no matter how much Michael likes him.

Thankfully he’s saved from getting himself out of this when they’re called to look at the scores on the board.

“Did we fucking win?” Michael shouts, surprised. He can’t wait to tell Calum, because he’s never won at this stupid game before.

“Hell yeah we did,” Jessy, one of the guys, says, putting both hands up for Michael to high-five. “Hope we’re in the same team again. Otherwise, it’s on, mate.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Michael agrees easily. New thing to focus on. Good.

Liz offers to buy everyone something to drink, including the four strangers, so they all join Luke at the booths. Michael doesn’t sit next to him, but he ends up right across from him, which might actually be worse. He does his best to joke around with everyone as he sips on his iced tea, but his attention keeps straying to Luke.

His stupid heart is doing this thing again where it’s both shrinking in on itself at having Luke focused on Ashton and dancing happily at Luke’s soft smile. In the end though, it hurts more that this smile isn’t directed at him when it could be if Luke just opened his eyes and saw what is right in front of him. Literally.

Apparently, Michael isn’t the only once fed up with Luke.

“Luke, come on,” Jack hisses, voice low so only Luke should be able to hear him. “Leave Ashton alone, will you?”

“Leave me alone, don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re insufferable,” Jack says. “You’ve been stuck to this damn phone since we came here. You didn’t even spend time with grandma and grandpa cause you were too busy talking to him. What did you even come here for?”

There’s something to be said about the way Luke turns to Michael at that, as if Michael could have been the reason he came back. But the way he freezes like a deer caught in headlights when he notices that Michael has heard all of it is the clearest reminder that this is just wishful thinking; that Michael is still holding on to hope when he really shouldn’t.

“Whatever,” Luke scoffs, getting up and moving out of Michael’s sight.

Being dismissed has never been fun; having it happen in public in front of Jack and some people he doesn’t know is humiliating. Michael doesn’t know what to do under their sorry stares, so he just takes a sip of his drink, letting the conversation and light banter resume around him.

He doesn’t even pretend to pay attention. He’s too taken up by his reeling mind. He can’t believe he was having such a good time in spite of everything, and it’s Luke’s who’s ruined it all. Luke isn’t supposed to be the one to ruin him. Luke is supposed to be the one to make everything better. Calum would say that he’s a blind idiot, that it clearly hasn’t been that way for a while, but Michael can’t help it.

He’s spent the last five years with that mindset; he can’t just discard all of it because suddenly it hurts, no matter how much he wishes he could.

As per usual, he must be stuck in his head too long, because then someone’s calling his name, and he’s so taken aback that he ends up knocking his drink down, all over himself.

“Jesus fuck,” he says, hiding his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan.

“Mikey,” his mom calls out, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

“It’s fine, I’ll just go and clean this up in the bathroom.”

He gets up, running to where he assumes the bathroom is at the back of the lobby. He can feel frustrated tears springing to his eyes, which he does his best to ignore. He should have known when Calum had to cancel that this would be a bad day. Fuck his life.

Maybe Michael is really dumb, because he doesn’t think this can get worse. Which is why he doesn’t expect the way his whole being turns cold as he opens the bathroom door. He almost bumps into Luke, who lets out a scared squeal and holds his phone to his chest, but not before Michael has caught a look of Ashton on the screen.

Well, fuck him.

“Since when do you have FaceTime?” he asks Luke, who looks around for a way to leave. Well tough, Michael’s in the way.

“Huh, I mean–”

“Did you have it when you left?”

Luke only looks at his feet guiltily, and Michael lets out a humourless laugh, doing his best for it not to come out like a sob.

“Fuck, you really just didn’t wanna talk to me, did you?”

He briefly wonders how well it would go over if he told his mom he was moving to Calum’s for the remainder of the summer. Hide away under Calum’s childhood bedsheets and pretend he’s still little ten year old Michael that nothing could reach.

“Mike, it’s not like that–”

“Luke? Who is that?” Ashton’s voice comes from Luke’s phone, which has Luke freezing even more, if possible. “Is that Michael?”

“Are you gonna lie to him?” Michael whispers, for Luke’s ears only.

There’s a beat where no one says anything, Ashton and Michael’s questions hanging up in the air. Luke seems contrite, keeps glancing behind Michael’s shoulder for the door, looking for a way to escape this situation he put himself in.

Then Luke blinks, brings his phone to his mouth with a hurried, “I have to go,” before hanging up and pushing past Michael with barely a look his way. Michael lets him, feeling sorry for both himself and the boy who seems to be so important he has Luke captivated.

“Shit,” he lets out when a tear finally rolls down his face, and he wipes it away with his hands, but it’s useless; more tears follow, and it doesn’t seem possible to stop them so he just doesn’t.

He ends up cleaning up his clothes at the sink when he remembers why he came here in the first place, trying to get rid of all the sugar from the drink on him. He can only do so much without taking the clothes off, but he’s persistent, and he can’t have himself be a mess on the outside as if to show everyone how broken down he is.

Which is why he ends up spending too long in there, until his mom finds him like this, scrubbing too hard at his shirt through his tears.

“Oh, honey,” she says, sorrow seeping into her voice. Michael almost wishes he could have felt ashamed at being found like this, but the only thing he can do is run into her arms and erupt into ugly sobs, clutching at her shirt. He wishes he were smaller, suddenly, so he could hide away in her arms and pretend she could make everything better.

She doesn’t say anything, just make shushing noises while she caresses his back and head until he’s calmed down enough that his whole body isn’t heaving because of hiccups.

“Did you need to use the bathroom,” he asks, voice too hoarse, when he can speak.

“No, I came to get you,” she says. He lets go of her at that, and it’s a testament to how terrible he must look that she doesn’t scold him for using the neck of his shirt to wipe his face. “We’re about to play the second game, but you don’t have to.”

“No, no.” Michael shakes his head; he will not bow down to weakness. He’s better than this. “I’m coming with.”

“Okay honey,” she says, kissing his forehead once before opening the door, letting him follow her.

Everyone is already in the dark when they join them, thank god, so Michael just smiles to himself to prevent from breaking down into tears again, and puts on his gear.

If he spends the entire game with a scowl on his face trying to shoot Luke as much as possible, well. No one has to know.

(Except for Calum. Michael will tell Calum, and Calum will be proud of him and make weird jokes, and maybe Michael will be able to smile. Maybe.)

* * *

After that, strangely, luke’s phone is nowhere to be seen. In fact, Luke seems to be avoiding it at all cost.

Doesn’t mean it gets necessarily better. Luke might not be talking to Ashton every waking second, but Michael would bet anything that he’s the only thing he’s thinking about. Michael can see it in the way Luke gets lost in his thoughts, a perpetual frown on his face. He can see it in the way Luke takes ages to fall asleep at night, fingers crawling towards his phone on the floor, retracting before they can reach it.

A few weeks ago, Michael might have fooled himself that Luke was lost in thoughts revolving around him, but he isn’t sure he can do that anymore. Well. On his way to sleep, when he isn’t aware enough to control his thoughts, he does think about it. About Luke wondering if maybe it’s time to break up with Ashton, but agonizing over it because well, Ashton is a good fucking person.

“You don’t actually know that, you know?” Calum says when they’re out to walk Calum’s parents dog. Yes, he did cave and go to Calum’s for a day. His mom didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, but he probably is,” Michael insists. “And even if he’s not perfect or whatever, this still isn’t his fault. Like, _I_ would feel bad breaking up with him.”

Calum sighs, ignoring the way Duke is tugging on the leash. “When will you stop being so fucking…. nice and empathizing? Who’s doing that for you?”

“You are?” Michael tries to joke, but he’s certain the sincerity of the words is seeping through.

Calum just hums, and hands him the leash. Michael takes it, frowning.

“Are you trying to make me fall or something?” he asks, remembering the times they used to dog walk together in high school and the dogs would tug so hard on the leash Michael would always be sent flying to the ground. Not his proudest moments.

“Nah, I’ve seen enough of that to last me a lifetime,” Calum laughs, making Michael pout. “And, if I wanted to make you trip over yourself I’d just call Luke right now and tell him everything you don’t want to.”

Michael would have frozen on the spot if not for the dog. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Dunno.” Calum shrugs. “I kinda want to make him feel miserable. Don’t act like deep down, like _really_ deep down, you don’t want to either.”

Of course, Calum is right. But as established by Calum himself before, Michael can’t help but want good for everyone. Including his shitty ex. And, oh. He’s never called Luke that, before. He’s never associated that word with him once in his life. And shit, but it sounds so wrong. He can’t believe that’s the word he’ll have to use from now on whenever he talks about him to other people. Unless…

No. _Stop it Michael_ , he tells himself. _You need to stop with all this false hope._

He feels a light tap on his shoulder, and he realizes Calum has been talking while he was lost in his thoughts.

“What?”

Calum rolls his eyes. “I said your mom called me yesterday.”

That’s certainly surprising. “Why the fuck would she call you?”

“Because I’m her favourite long lost child?” Calum says with a smirk.

“Fuck off.” Calum is probably right. “Why did she call you?”

“She asked if I was going back to work next week,” Calum starts. “And I said no, I have two more weeks here.”

“And?”

“Well, she paid for me to come with you to Byron Bay.”

The dog doesn’t appreciate it, but Michael actually stops this time.

“She what? You’re coming to the campsite? For the entire week?” At Calum’s positive reply, Michael can feel himself sigh in relief. “Fuck, I didn’t know I needed that, but I did. That’s just… thank you.”

Calum smiles, and they start walking again. “Well, I think it’s your mom you need to thank. But of course. Happy to help, always.”

Michael nods, once before giving Calum a side hug. He only lets go when Calum claims he’s too hot and pinches his side.

Rude.

* * *

Michael has never been to Byron Bay. It’s a nine hour drive from his house, which is absolutely not his idea of fun. They leave at three in the morning, and Calum spends the first four hours sleeping and drooling on his shoulder. It’s far from comfortable, and kinda gross, but it’s also a reminder that Calum is here to make sure his week with Luke in a place where it’s even hotter than Sydney isn’t absolutely terrible, so he just sucks it up.

He does think briefly about what it would have been like to spend this same ride with Luke on his shoulder instead, he can’t help it. He tries to shake it though, instead focusing on random phone games that actually really suck, but hey, he’s got to pass the time somehow.

“Holy shit, Mike,” Calum says when they finally step foot in the beach house Luke’s parents rented for them, hitting his chest a bit too hard. “It’s fucking huge.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Michael says, but he’s not focusing on the huge, bright space.

The only sight captivating enough to him right now, is Luke. He’s stood in the middle of the main room, looking around, big blue eyes wide in awe. For one fleeting second, he looks just like the kid Michael fell in love with; innocent and easily impressed by the world and by pretty things.

He fits right in this place, Michael muses. Fancy, too beautiful, but still absolutely charming and unique. Michael wishes he knew more about photography or art, because Luke deservs to be captured like this, and Michael deserves to look at the work of art that is this moment as often as he wants.

“You kids can have the two rooms upstairs,” Michael’s dad says, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You sort yourselves out, alright?”

Jack nods, clapping Luke on the back, breaking him out of his own revery.

“What?” he says, cheeks reddening.

“Move up, we’re gonna figure out the bunking arrangements,” Jack says, pushing Luke towards the stairs.

Luke goes without complaining, and Michael can feel Calum’s eyes boring into the side of his face, but he does his best to ignore it.

They follow Jack and Luke upstairs, both of them letting out an appreciative whistle at the rest of the house. It’s as bright as the ground floor, almost more with the big window on the mezzanine, where there’s an old piano that Michael doubts is working. This place has no right looking as big as it does, but Michael guesses it’s part of the illusion.

“Okay,” Jack starts. “What are we doing now?”

For a minute, no one talks, the silence heavy. Everyone looks back and forth to the two rooms on each side, both complete with two twin sized beds and a wardrobe. Michael had thought it was obvious, what they were gonna do. Before all of this, he’s certain the goal was for Jack to take one room and for Luke and Michael to share the other, but surely Jack doesn’t expect that to happen now, does he?

Thankfully, Calum comes to the rescue.

“I’m rooming with Mike,” he says, making his way to the room with the pale blue walls. “Sorry guys, you won’t get to hear my soothing snores at night.”

The slight tension in the air dissipates, just like that, everyone letting out a short chuckle.

“So you’re putting me through it, is that it?” Michael asks, following Calum.

“Yeah, yeah, pretend you don’t love it.”

“I don’t. Also, you better not make a mess of this room.”

“Oh please, as if I was the messy one out of the two of us.”

They set out to make themselves at home, unpacking their suitcases and filling up the wardrobe. Well, “filling up” is definitely too strong a word for the five pair of shorts and underwear and ten shirts and the one pair of swimmers they have each, but still. Michael is enjoying putting everything on the shelves, and he already knows he’s gonna enjoy picking everything out all week. It’s always what he likes most about vacations; pretending he lives a completely different life for a small pocket of time.

“Hey crazy kids,” Jack says in the doorway, making both of them jump out of their skins.

“Jesus fuck, don’t do that,” Michael scowls.

“You’re just too skittish,” Jack says offhandedly, and, well. That’s not entirely untrue. “Anyway, Luke and I are going to the beach, you coming?”

“Of course we are,” Calum says before Michael can even think about a way to opt out.

“Sick, see you downstairs,” Jack says, and then he’s off somewhere else.

“You know how terrible it is to see Luke half naked in the pool back home already?” Michael grumbles, but he takes his swimmers from the wardrobe.

“The beach is wide, you can avoid looking at him easily,” Calum says with a roll of his eyes, though he still claps his shoulder in solidarity on his way to the bathroom.

 _Yeah, sure,_ Michael thinks. _It’s not as if I’m not powerless and don’t have a choice whether I can look at him or not._ It’s whatever; this is his other life for a week, and he’s going to enjoy it no matter what.

He puts his swimmers on, retrieves his and Calum’s beach towels, and with a deep breath, meets everyone downstairs.

He can do this.

* * *

Everything considered, the first few days go pretty well.

They go hiking, which neither Luke nor Michael are the most fond of, but the views are worth it in the end. They go to a karaoke party that’s way too organized, but still ends up being fun; everyone urges Luke to have a go, and even though he tries to play it off as something casual, his voice is still the most beautiful thing Michael has ever heard, taking everyone around them by surprise. He gets the biggest applause of the night.

Michael isn’t the biggest fan of the water — pools are good, but the sea is a whole different story — but he still makes an effort to go in at least once everyday, even if he has to stop himself from staring at Luke’s chest. But well, he’s only human, and Luke’s chest uis right here. Of course he’s going to look.

He even humours everyone by trying to surf for the first time in their lives. It turns out Jack is the only one who doesn’t completely suck at it.

“Honestly, I'm kinda surprised,” Michael says to Luke when he watches him choke on the wave for the fifth time.

“What is?” Luke says through a cough.

“I would have thought you’d be able to surf. You sure look like you can.”

“Well,” Calum interrupts, coming up to them. “Turns out he can’t.”

“Shut up, you’re not any better,” Luke says with an adorable pout to his lips.

“At least I’m a better person,” Calum mumbles before hopping back onto the board.

Luke’s face falls, and Michael tries to give him a small smile to say sorry, but it comes out awkward and insincere, so he just clears his throat and they both move back to the water. 

Honestly, other than this little hiccup, it doesn’t go too bad.

The only thing, though, is that Luke’s stupid phone seems to have made a reappearance, and it’s got Luke as captivated as the pretty views. Michael has long stopped feeling insulted, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get on his nerves.

Why can’t Luke just take a second to disconnect? Especially since the phone getaways don’t seem to do him any good. He seems on edge and frustrated most of the time, which almost serves to bring the mood of the room down a couple times.

Michael doesn’t mention it, though. He can tell Calum almost does more than once, but an i-beg-you-not-to glare or a kick to the shin usually get him to remain silent. Michael doesn’t want to make this trip uncomfortable. He wants to enjoy it and not think about all of this.

Except, well. He’s not kidding anyone now, is he? He thinks about it every damn minute. So, Michael doesn’t mention it, until it starts to get to him, and his mouth filter decides not to give a fuck anymore.

He's laying on his towel, feet in the sand and burning under the sun because he’s an idiot and forgot to put sunscreen on, when he hears someone sitting roughly next to him. He knows who it is before he even opens his eyes.

“What’s up?” he asks. He has to shield his eyes with his hand to see Luke, sitting with his arms around his knees.

Luke just shrugs. His shoulders are tense, the muscles of his naked back not faring any better. _He could use a massage_ , his dumbass brain supplies, but Michael shuts it off as soon as possible and looks up at Luke’s profile.

The picture would be serene and soothing, paired with the sound of the waves and the sounds of children and families playing drowned by the wind, if it weren’t for the way his whole face looks like a big, unhappy frown.

“What happened?” Michael asks before he can check with himself if he really wants to know.

Luke hesitates for a second, before saying to the beach, "Got into a fight." 

"With who?" Michael asks, sitting up, though he has an inkling.

"Huh. With Ashton." Figures.

"About what?" 

Luke turns to him then, a bigger frown on his face as he scoffs. "You're really fucking nosy, for fuck’s sake.”

Michael can feel his face go through all sorts of expression at the shock of Luke being openly cross with him. That’s never happened before.

“What–”

“It's nothing, okay? None of your business," Luke bites before getting up, and Michael has had enough.

He can tell that Luke is trying to escape him by going into the water, because he knows Michael isn’t the biggest fan of it. He still follows him. 

"What are you doing?" Luke asks once he realizes Michael is in the water with him.

"You know what, this is bullshit," Michael says. He can feel the bubbling anger inside of him, foreign and ugly, and he’s almost glad for it. "What is wrong with you?"

"I don’t know what you mean," Luke shrugs off, before swimming further into the sea. He doesn’t show any signs of stopping soon, but Michael doesn’t relent, intent on going after him. He’s struggling quite a bit, not used to swimming for so long, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting to Luke.

Finally Luke stops when it seems clear Michael isn’t gonna turn tails, and turns to him, moving his arms to stay afloat. The salt is making his hair look a bit wild, and the sun is shading his face in an angelic light; really fucking unfair.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Luke?” Michael starts, startling them both. “Since the day you got here you just– it's so fuzzy, this thing with you. First you reject me, then you let me almost kiss you only to fucking crush me. Then everything is fukcing awkward. _Then_ , I make my peace with you and decide we can be friends, and you fucking… _flirt_ with me at that party, and let me almost kiss you _again_. And it’s like." Michael swallows, taking a deep breath; he’s having a hard time staying afloat while using so much energy to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. "I feel like you keep giving me hope. The way you won’t talk about Ashton, the way you’re uncomfortable when he’s brought up as if what you’re doing is wrong." 

"Michael-" 

"Luke, I don't understand you. You're giving me all these mixed signals, and... I feel like you can't just–” Michael shakes his head, letting out a humourless laugh. “I feel like there’s still something here. The way you keep looking at me, I just- I can't shake it. And you wouldn’t have let me so close to kissing you if you didn’t want it, either.” Michael is really not feeling the confidence he’s faking, but fuck if he's gonna stop. “So, either you’re being really fucking obtuse and haven’t realized, or you don’t want to admit it."

To prove his point, Michael floats closer until he can loop an arm around Luke’s neck, his right hand coming up to Luke’s naked chest, right where his heart is beating fast, too fast.

"Michael what are you doing?" Luke breathes out, his own arms working to keep them on the surface. 

"I don't know, you tell me," Michael whispers.

He looks at Luke’s face once again, so pretty and fuck, this close his eyelashes are really long, framing his eyes beautifully. Michael’s eyes flick down to Luke’s mouth, parted slightly, lips inviting. He can't help but be drawn to them; he leans closer, until he’s almost touching Luke’s lips again. He wants to; but he won’t take the first step, if only out of respect for Ashton (Calum is right, he’s too fucking nice). But fuck, he wants to, and he’s so close.

He can tell Luke wants it, too. He can see it in the electricity surrounding the both of them, too intense to be casual or one sided. It's like a little bubble again, the ocean drowning the sounds of the beach.

“I love you,” Michael mutters against Luke’s lips, blurted out just like that. It’s too easy to say, contrary to what he’d thought, but it’s so liberating to finally say it. So he repeats it, lets the words flow out of him. 

"Mike,” Luke whispers finally. “You can’t say that, I'm- I'm with ashton."

"Who are you trying to convince here?" 

There's a beat where Luke almost stops breathing. Michael almost feels bad, because he knows he’s putting Luke in a tough situation, that if he kissed Michael right now then he’ll be cheating on his boyfriend, but Michael would just like for him to get his head out of his ass for one second. 

For a second it feels like Luke is about to get closer, to bridge the gap between the two of them, but then he blinks and pushes Michael away, so suddenly Michael has to remember to make himself float.

"Fuck you," Luke snarls, or tries to. The breathiness to his voice all but ruins the effect.

So Michael lets him go and watches him swim away from him, further out into the sea. He doesn't follow him.

He tries not to be disappointed, though he’s not exactly kidding himself. But, as he swims back to the shore, he lets himself think that he got what he wanted. God, Calum will think he’s an idiot, but he could feel that Luke was unwavering. There’s still something there. He just needs to make Luke face that Michael is the one.

* * *

“You’re an idiot,” Calum tells him that night when they’re getting ready to go to a beach party. “When are you gonna let this go? At this point you’re just hurting yourself.”

“Fuck you, I could tell he wanted to kiss me,” Michael says. “He seemed torn, like he had to force himself not to.”

Calum sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tired of seeing you lose yourself to this blind hope and constant optimism. You deserve so much better than this, Mike.”

Michael shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want better than this. I just want Luke.”

“I’m not gonna change your mind, am I?”

"Probably not.”

“Well then,” Calum sighs again, a resigned look on his face. “Let’s go party.”

The party is, well. It’s a party. There’s more people than Michael would have expected, but he guesses that makes sense. People around his age must have come not only from the campsite, and now it looks like the beach is packed.

The music is loud, but not enough that Michael can’t talk to Calum easily.

“I think I should dance with other people,” he tells him. “See what Luke does. You know, I’m sure he’ll get jealous if I put him in the position I've been in all summer.”

“I don’t want to be like this, but aren’t you just projecting your own jealousy onto him?”

“Will you be nice?”

“Will you stop? Can’t you just enjoy your night?”

Michael just rolls his eyes and drags Calum to the sea of people. Jack is nowhere in sight, and Luke is sitting at a table by the makeshift bar. He’s got his phone in his hand, but he only ever looks at it to sigh deeply, so Michael assumes he’s still fighting with Ashton. Or, at least, that Ashton doesn’t want to talk to him.

That makes Michael a bit too happy, for someone who was born breathing compassion, but he doesn’t mind it. Luke doesn’t need Ashton. He doesn’t need Michael, either, Michael isn’t self-centered enough to think that, but he can have him. He can get so much love from him. 

And so, Michael does what he sets out to do. He regretfully leaves Calum alone, to get himself close to guys his age; to his surprise, he doesn’t have too much trouble with that. A few guys smile at him and get close, dancing casually and whispering nonsense in his ears, voices delighted and full of laughter.

They’re nice enough. They’re not too grabby, clearly just here to have fun. He's glad none of them seems to want to take things further; he’d feel absolutely awful to have to turn them down.

The night goes on like this. Calum comes to join him at some point, and it’s weird seeing Calum dance close to people like this, but Michael is grateful to have him here either way. Every so often Michael glances to where Luke is still sitting at the bar, scowling more and more into his drink. When their eyes cross, Michael feels all sorts of powers rush through him. Because Luke almost looks hurt, and that shouldn’t make him feel good, but it’s one step closer to having Luke realize some things.

Still, Luke never joins him in the crowd. He doesn’t come and kiss him soundly and scream at him that he’s his. He remains on his chair, looking miserable in the night. Maybe Michael’s not doing enough. And he knows exactly what he could do. Looking at all the guys around him and thinking of doing it with them only makes him feel extreme discomfort, though, his stomach tightening in knots.

But then… there _is_ another option.

“Cal,” he calls, pulling him outside of the circle they've created.

“What?”

Michael swallows, putting his hands on Calum’s shoulders. “I’m gonna ask you something, but just know it’s not a come on.”

“What are you–”

“And I mean, like, I’d hope you know it’s not, because we’re not like that and I love Luke, but I’m kinda desperate and it’s–”

“Michael!” Calum shouts, and Michael blushes when he realizes he’s been rambling. “Get to the point.”

Right. The point. He glances at Luke, who’s looking at them with a frown on his face, and decides this is worth it.

“Can you kiss me?” Michael asks. Calum’s eyes go wide.

“Michael–”

“Please, just… Please. I want Luke to see.”

Calum scoffs when he catches on with what's happening. “You want to make him jealous by kissing your best friend? That you’ve never shown any interest in wanting to kiss before?”

Michael nods, getting closer. “Please?” He can feel Luke’s eyes on him, and he wants to look, but he won’t succumb to it.

Instead he pleads with his eyes, because he knows that no matter what Calum will do anything to help him out. Maybe it’s not very fair; he’s sort of taking advantage of his best friend. But that’s something he can worry about later.

Sure enough, before long Calum is sighing in defeat and bringing a hand to Michael’s neck. Michael feels a flutter of lips on his for no more than a second, and then Calum is leaning back.

“What?” Michael says with a frown. “No, not like that.”

He doesn’t really think about what he’s doing, just tugs Calum closer until their lips are touching again, but this time Michael doesn’t let Calum get away so soon.

It’s incredibly strange; nothing happens. He never thought kissing someone could feel so bland, but that’s exactly what he’s feeling right now. He can feel Calum move his lips against his, but the only thing Michael can think about is _what is Luke thinking right now?_ But he doesn’t break the kiss, presses his lips harder against Calum’s.

Until Calum makes a sound at the back of his throat and pushes him away.

“I’m very sorry, but that was kinda gross,” he says, but he’s clearly refraining from smiling.

“Yeah, that wasn’t the best,” Michael agrees, and he can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him when Calum’s lips twitch again.

“This is ridiculous,” Calum says when Michael is too busy laughing and hiding into his shoulder. “Why are we even doing this?”

“For love,” Michael replies, meaning it as a joke, but the words sober him up. “What is he doing?”

“I think he’s glaring daggers at me right now.”

“Shit.”

Michael looks up so fast he tumbles into the person behind him, but he barely remembers to apologize. Luke is, in fact, glaring at Calum, his face twisted in confusion and something definitely not happy. Then he notices Michael staring, and his brow furrows even more, his hand clutching his glass.

He’s too far away for Michael to tell what his eyes are saying, especially in the light glow of the makeshift lights. He thinks about walking up to him, but he’s still hoping Luke will be the one to make a move.

He doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone, the place he was occupying empty as he makes his way back to the campsite.

“Fuck,” Michael whispers. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to. Luke wasn’t happy about Calum kissing him, that can only be a good thing, right?

“I huh, I need to see him,” he utters, turning away from Calum, well intent on finding Luke, when he feels a hand gripping his wrist.

“Mike,” Calum says, a serious look in his eyes. “Please just be careful, okay? I don’t know how many times I can take fixing your broken heart.”

Michael lets out a small smile, and before he can think about it leans in to plant one on Calum’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he just says, squeezing Calum’s hand, and then he’s off to find Luke.  
—  
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Luke has gone back to the house. What Michael doesn’t expect as he crosses the threshold, though, is to hear Luke’s broken voice resonating throughout the whole place.

It makes him halt in the main room, his heartbeat stopping before starting again frantically. 

“-not like that, you can’t do this,” Luke shouts weakly, voice shaking. “I swear we’re good, I’m good. Please don’t push me away.” There’s a pause, the silence stretching for too long. And then, Luke’s voice, brittle and on the verge of breaking, “I’m begging you please. It doesn’t mean– I’m sorry.”

He’s never heard Luke sound so scared and lost. It’s unsettling, and suddenly Michael is at a loss. He wanted to confront Luke again, corner him so he had no choice but to talk, but he isn’t sure he can bear to do that now.

Still, when it seems there won’t be another word from Luke, he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and makes his way upstairs.

The light in Luke and Jack’s room is on, so Michael follows it, knocking on the half open door.

“Fuck,” he hears, before Luke appears in the doorway. What Michael sees makes him want to cry, because Luke isn’t but he sure doesn’t look like he’s far away from it. If it had only been up to Michael, he would have reached out, kissed the corners of Luke’s red eyes, soothed the crease between his brows, before wrapping his arms around him.

But he doesn’t think he has a say in this, not when they haven’t had a chance to talk yet.

“What happened?” he asks instead, trying not to sound bitter. He would have rather found Luke angry at _him_ , that way he could have just shouted and kissed him stupid. He shakes his head. He couldn’t have; not when there’s Ashton.

Luke seems to hesitate for a second, then he lets out a sigh that Michael can feel deep in his own bones, running his hands over his face. “I think Ashton just broke up with me.”

Oh. Oh. _Oh._ Michael hadn’t known what he was expecting, but it sure wasn’t that. Maybe he’s a terrible person, because he almost has to retain a smile. Either way, he can feel so much _relief relief relief_ flowing through his body, and a weight he hadn’t been paying attention to lifted off his shoulders.

“Oh.”

Luke looks down, frowns at their feet. “I mean, he said we had to take a break, to set my priorities straight, but I already know it means that–” he stops himself, looking back at Michael. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“You can tell me anything,” Michael says, reaching out, but Luke swats his hand away.

“I shouldn’t be able to,” Luke says. “Especially… especially not this.”

“And what _is_ this?”

Luke sighs again, before retreating to sit on the edge of his bed, his shoulders heavy. “Please, can you leave it? I’d like to sleep.”

“Okay,” Michael says. He gets it; breaking up isn’t easy, especially if it’s not mutual. He tries not to think about how bad he’s been waiting for that break-up himself, and instead decides to give Luke this night to himself. “Okay, I’m sorry. I truly am.”

The look Luke gives him tells him he isn’t fooling anyone, but then he smiles softly, so Michael smiles back before he leaves him alone, step too light and carefree as he makes his way back to Calum.

* * *

The next day is agony; Michael is back to waiting again.

The only reason he doesn’t come up to Luke in the morning is purely because Luke seems completely distraught and like he’s thinking too hard. He keeps biting his lips and messing up his hair and getting lost in his own head. After lunch, Jack announces that he and Luke need to go on a “brotherly escapade”, which has everyone including Luke confused.

Point is, Michael doesn’t see Luke all afternoon. Calum keeps saying it’s a good thing.

“I don’t want you to get too excited only to get crushed again,” he tells Michael over ice cream. “I want you to think about this.”

“I’ve _been_ thinking about this, Cal. For literal years.”

“Yeah, but.” Calum hums, seems to think for a second, then steals a lick off Michael’s ice cream.

“Hey! Gross!”

“Dude, I literally had your mouth on mine yesterday,” Calum retorts, and yeah. Point. “Anyway, he’s literally going back to New York in like, two weeks. Is it really worth it?”

Michael’s been trying not to think about that. He’s been putting the date of Luke’s departure far at the back of his mind, as if that would make it less real. But it’s getting closer and closer to it, which is why if he has to do something he needs to do it and do it _now_.

“It’s whatever. I’ll move to New York with him if I have to. Like, I’d work shifts at a shitty bar and sell hot dogs on the streets to pay for a new college tuition if I have to,” he says, almost scared to see how much he means it.

“You’d leave me alone here?” Calum asks, teasing, but instantly Michael feels bad.

“I mean… I wouldn’t _want_ to. My dream life would be to have you both here, you know that.”

“Hey, I know,” Calum says, and Michael doesn’t say anything this time when he steals more ice cream. “Just saying, I don’t want you to put your heart and soul in this. You know how I feel about all this. It’s not worth it.”

Michael shrugs. “To me, it is.”

“I know buddy.” Calum sighs, and offers some of his own ice cream. “I know.” 

Well. If all else fails, at least he has Calum to share ice cream with.

_—_

Luke and Jack are back for dinner, and Michael has to stop his legs from bouncing every five second. The restaurant they're at is quite fancy, the terrace facing the beach. The view is absolutely gorgeous; the sun has barely started setting, yellow and oranges blending into a beautiful pink over the calm sea.

Michael can't really appreciate it properly. Luke doesn’t smile once throughout dinner, his eyes so red and puffy it looks like he’s been crying all day. He might as well have been, Michael figures. If there’s anything Luke were to cry over, it would be a break-up.

 _Never thought I’d have to witness that_ , he thinks, but pushes the thought away before it can put him down too much. Right now isn’t the time. Everything can get better. It will. It has to.

They move to the beach once they’re done with dinner; it’s almost completely dark by then, the stars bright in the night sky, and everything feels serene and calm.

“Oh, is everyone going in the water?” Michael asks when he sees all the parents getting down to their swimmers.

“Yeah, come on Mike,” Calum says. “Midnight dip!”

“I need to go and get my swimmers,” he shouts to Calum’s back.

“Just go in like that,” Calum shouts back.

“I don’t want to,” he says. That would be awfully uncomfortable. “I’ll just be back in like fifteen minutes.”

“You suck.”

“Whatever, just don’t drown until I get back, I need to film it and post it so I can at least gain something from your death.”

His only response is a “fuck off” that he elects to ignore, so he just turns around and makes his way back to the house. It’s not a long walk. And yet Michael still has time to think too much. Here under the beautiful sky, though, everything seems to be in its right place. He feels confident in himself, and in Luke.

He reminds himself of how good they are for and to each other. Of how they’ve always been in tune. Even when they used to disagree over every little thing, it wouldn’t matter. Because their love was always stronger. _We just need to talk,_ Michael thinks. _That’s what we’ve been missing. Talk it out, and we’ll be fine._

He already knows his first mistake was not sending Luke those letters. Or not saying the words they held to Luke himself. He’s now almost certain that if he had, then Luke would have known to show him love in return. Well. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, but he likes to think he has a chance now if he keeps telling Luke how much he’s so incredibly in love.

Before he knows it he’s at the front door. He’s surprised to find it unlocked already, because he’s sure he saw Liz locking it on their way to the restaurant. With a shrug he goes inside, figuring it’s not that big a deal. Are there many robbers in a place like that? He wouldn’t think so. But then again, what does he know about stuff like that?

He’s startled out of his thoughts when he’s barely made it to his room. Someone is crying. Someone is struggling to hide sniffles and hiccups. That someone sounds suspiciously like Luke. Michael hadn’t even realized he was gone. That’s never happened before; he’s usually so attuned to Luke’s presence that the moment he’s gone Michael’s senses are suddenly hyper aware of the fact.

There’s a louder sniffle then, followed by a muttered “fuck,” in what is indisputably Luke’s voice. Shit. Michael can’t take Luke being sad; he can’t. The quiet cries are already tugging on his heartstrings, and if they pull too much, Michael is afraid it’s gonna break, the bandages he’s put on it over the past few weeks be damned.

“Luke?” he asks softly with a knock on the door; it’s closed this time. What if Luke doesn’t allow him to come in? Would Michael be a dick enough to invade his privacy? But would it really be a dick move if it was to comfort Luke?

He doesn’t need to worry about that for too long, because Luke’s shaky voice tells him to come in. Michael couldn’t have opened the door faster, though maybe he should have geared himself up for what he finds inside the room.

Luke is sitting cross legged on his bed, hands fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt. His blotchy face is tear stained, hair a mess as if he’s been running his fingers through it too much. When he looks up at Michael, though, that’s when Michael feels the bandages around his heart start to rip apart. Those clear blue eyes are tinted with overwhelming sadness, something that must come from deep within.

He’s not pushing Michael away, though. He’s letting Michael in, letting him see him so vulnerable. So Michael takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and so forth until he’s reached Luke’s bed.

“Can I sit?” he asks, wondering why he doesn’t just do it.

Luke just nods, so Michael sits on the edge of the bed. It’s silent for a moment; Michael doesn’t really know how to start, so he lets Luke get himself together until the hiccups have died down. He doesn’t know how long it takes, could be ten minutes, could be an hour, but either way he stays here, and just waits until he feels it okay to talk.

“I would ask if you’re okay, but… well.” Not the best of starts, but he’s said it, and it’s not a lie.

Thankfully Luke doesn’t seem to be offended, just lets out a snort.

“Do you, huh,” Michael says, hesitant. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

No way to know if that’s a good idea; it’s probably not, though. If Luke decides to talk about how much he loves and misses Ashton, then Michael is going to die. Like, not even kill himself, he’ll just die from heartbreak at the words.

“I feel like I’ve fucked everything up,” Luke says, surprising Michael.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, Ashton doesn’t wanna be with me anymore,” Luke starts and oh, here it comes. “And I feel terrible about that, but it’s not… it doesn’t feel like it’s him I’m mourning.”

Michael frowns at that. “What does that mean?”

“I just… I feel like I’m just scared to be lonely. To not be in a relationship, and have my mind run free.”

 _But I’m right here_ , Michael screams from the inside.

“You… don’t love Ashton?” he asks instead.

Luke sighs, letting out a frustrated groan before turning around and looking Michael in the eyes. Michael hates that they’re so pretty even while glazed over. “I do. He’s an amazing person that I treasure and who honestly deserves only good things. But I don’t love him like that.”

“Oh.” It’s the only thing Michael can let out. His head, though, is overflowing with a thousand thoughts and questions that he can’t seem to make sense of, let alone put into actual words.

“Exactly. But I still… I’m still hoping for him to have me back. Even though I know it’s incredibly unfair to him.”

Michael swallows the cry he wants to let out. He doesn’t know where his confidence has gone off to. “Why? If you don’t love him like that anyway, if you don’t want him, then why?”

“Because, I,” Luke starts before swallowing, gaze piercing suddenly. It’s unsettling. “The one thing I want? I’ve fucked that up, too. And I’m willing to bet that I’ve fucked it up worse.”

Luke is looking at him. Luke won’t look away, his sad but determined eyes intense as they stare into Michael’s soul as if to make a point. Michael’s breath hitches at that. It feels like his lungs have closed up, or maybe it’s his throat. Or maybe they’re actually in outer space, and there’s no air left to get inside his body. In any case it feels like it’s no longer possible to breathe.

It feels as though were Michael to disturb the atmosphere that’s settled around them right now, then Luke won’t actually be saying what Michael thinks he is.

“Luke,” he lets out still, and the word comes out strained, his voice scratchy.

The only answer he gets is Luke's eyes, still boring into his, something strangely like hope in them. Michael takes the time to get lost in them, because it feels allowed in this moment. It feels allowed for him to be able to depict every shade of blue in the iris; it’s incredibly subtle, most of it the same exact shade. The only reason Michael notices it is because he’s looking for it. Because he already knows it’s here.

It’s because he’s looking so closely that he notices the way Luke’s eyes flick slightly downwards to what can only be Michael’s lips. Fuck. Michael wishes he’d been breathing, because it feels like all the air escapes him again, and if that continues then he’s going to die. Well. He guesses it’ll be worth it, to die because of Luke.

“Luke,” he repeats dumbly. Again, it’s barely there. His own eyes find their way to Luke’s lips. He hadn’t realized he was this close to them. It looks as if Luke has gnawed on them quite a bit, some of the skin torn and more red than the rest. Michael pictures sinking his own teeth into that bottom lip, letting the blood flow there and get the skin all puffy and well kissed.

Fuck. No wonder it’s hard to breathe.

“Are you–”

“ _Yes_ , I’m so sorry. Michael, I- fuck,” Luke mumbles, and before either of them knows it he’s on Michael.

For a moment, Michael’s brain doesn’t register what’s happening. He just knows his eyes have closed, that there’s a hand on his jaw and fingers buried in his hair, and that there’s pressure on his mouth. And then it hits him, everything at once. Luke is kissing him. After all this time, finally, Michael gets to taste Luke’s lips again.

He doesn’t waste a moment once the realization hits him. An overwhelmed whine escapes him, and then his own arms find their way around Luke’s neck, bringing him closer, relishing in the way Luke’s shoulders slump before he makes his own breathless sound at the back of his throat.

It’s everything and nothing like Michael remembers it, kissing Luke. It’s as powerful and magical, filled with enough passion to make Michael feel it all over. His lips are full and taste like the salt that’s present in the air and the tears that must have lodged themselves here to dry earlier. It’s everything that surrounds the kiss that’s different. Holding Luke is a bit of a hussle, his shoulders too wide for Michael to do what he wants with them. The air around them feels more charged than it’s ever been, probably with everything that’s still left unsaid.

“Wait,” Luke says, voice hoarse, then pecks his lips again. “What about Calum?”

Michael honest to god snorts at that. “For fuck’s sake, Luke, I hated every second of it.”

“Good.”

Luke is back on him then, sliding his lips against his lazily but with intent. Michael has never been more happy than he is right now, his heart finally going crazy with something that isn’t heartbreak, instead fluttering with love and giddiness.

He lets Luke lower him down to the mattress until his back hits it softly. Luke’s weight settles comfortable over him, like a warm blanket that Michael would pull over himself just for comfort, no matter the temperature. Luke _has_ been his comfort blanket many times in the past when they would sleep or lazily make out to the point of exhaustion. The exhilaration that would come with it is unpaired with what he’s feeling now; he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s been living without this for so long, but he’s feeling everything tenfold.

One of Luke’s hands slides down to his waist at the same time as Luke probes at his lips with his tongue. Michael lets him in without question, meeting him halfway. He can feel himself squirm a little at the hand though, but he pushes it at the back of his mind. If it’s where Luke feels comfortable touching Michael, then Michael will be comfortable with it.

He’s more taken up by Luke’s mouth that actually tastes a lot like the pizza he ate tonight, anyway. It should be a bit gross but instead it’s charming and real, and Michael probably doesn’t taste any better at all. So he gets lost in it, in the sensations and toe curling feelings. They've never shared a kiss this intense before, which is good, Michael is glad, no matter how unexpected it is.

It’s when he has to open his eyes as Luke starts kissing down his jaw to his neck while sliding a hand under his shirt that Michael starts to think maybe it’s a bit _too_ intense. Which is strange. Luke has kissed his neck before. Granted, not often, but he’s done it, and Michael is pretty sure he’s even asked for it a couple times himself.

But he’s starting to feel weird, and Luke is starting to feel heavy against him, every part of his body too present. And then, without warning, Luke’s hand is slipping inside his underwear. Michael can feel himself freeze up at the same time as he takes note of himself chubbing up slightly, and that’s when it sets in. Panic. It spreads throughout his whole body, his heartbeat going crazy for all the wrong reasons, especially when he starts feeling Luke’s own dick hard against his thigh, and that’s when he realizes that Luke might be expecting a completely different outcome from this.

Shit.

“Stop,” he hurries out, voice breaking but somehow still commanding as he tries to push Luke off of him. “Luke stop it.”

Luke’s hand stills, and so does his mouth on his neck, but Michael is struggling to breathe and Luke is not leaning back fast enough.

“Luke get _off_ me!”

His scared scream startles them both, enough for Luke to back up at lightning speed. There’s confusion written all over his face, and Michael swears he can see his red, red lips start wobbling. Oh fuck, no.

“Luke , I don’t want–” _I don’t want to have sex_ , he wants to say, but his throat clogs up when what he almost let happen sinks in, and he feels overwhelmed with _panic panic panic._ Oh, god, how does he breathe?

He can see the flash of hurt in Luke’s eyes, because _Michael didn’t finish his fucking sentence and now Luke thinks he’s regretting this,_ and then Luke is off the bed. Weirdly enough, it’s not even what Michael wants. Far from it. But he doesn’t know how to say that.

“No, you’re right. This was a bad idea, I– I shouldn’t have kissed you.” _I’m so glad you did._ “I’m sorry, I knew I fucked it up. Fuck.”

Then Luke grabs his phone and a pair of shoes, and just as a tear falls down his face, he’s out of the room.

 _Please don’t go_ , Michael wants to scream, because he doesn’t want Luke to leave now that he’s finally got him back, and he desperately needs a hug, but he’s still panicking too much to ask for it.

But he can’t stay here, on Luke’s bed, no matter how comforting it is, it feels wrong. So on shaky legs he gets up and stumbles to his and Calum’s room, flopping down on his best friend's bed. And then he thinks, hug. I can get a hug.

He fumbles with his phone and opens his text app.

 **To: Cal  
Today, 11:44p.m.**  
please come to the house. need a hug.

With a deep breath he lies on his back and puts a hand over his frantic heart. Hopefully Calum is out of the water and can get to him before it bursts out of his chest.  
  
  
—  
  
  
“So, you’ve never had a panic attack before?”

Michael shakes his head no where it’s hidden against Calum’s chest. Thankfully he was already on his way back to the house when he got the text, and he was able to talk Michael through whatever that was. His arm hasn’t left Michael’s shoulers where it’s safely wrapped around them.

“Okay,” Calum continues, voice calm. “I’m pretty confident that’s what that was.”

Michael frowns. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense. It’s your body’s way of telling you it felt like it was in danger.”

“But why has it never happened before then?”

“Well, you’ve never been in that situation before, have you? Where you were close to sleeping with someone?”

“Guess not.”

“Well there you go,” Calum says. “Plus, I’m sure Luke makes you feel safe, right?” Michael nods. Of course. “So, it makes even more sense. You probably never even associated this situation arising with Luke, so you were caught off guard. It’s alright.”

At the words, Michael can feel the last knots of tension untighten from his body, and he lets out a grateful sigh, fist gripping Calum’s shirt harder. It’s alright. It was a normal reaction to an unexpected event. He’s going to be okay. Calum said so.

“Did, huh,” Calum starts, but he stops himself.

“What?” Michael nudges.

“Did, huh. Is that why Luke isn’t the one holding you and reassuring you right now? Did he leave because you didn’t want to fuck? Cause that would be a really fucking shitty-”

“No, no,” Michael hurries to say when he realizes what Calum is getting at. “I’m pretty sure he left because I’m an idiot who can’t communicate.”

“Is that you putting the blame on yourself again?”

“It’s not. I was trying to say that I didn’t want to sleep with him, have sex, whatever, but I couldn’t really talk so I never finished my thoughts out loud, and I’m pretty sure he thought I was regretting this and that I’d changed my mind.”

Calum hums, seeming to think about this for a second, before letting Michael have this. Michael hugs him tighter. He wants to run out of the house and go find Luke to explain himself, but he’s still too shaken to do that, he thinks. And then he thinks more, and more, and maybe too much until he’s berating himself for even being shaken by something like this.

“You know, maybe I should just, like. Sleep with someone to get over this,” he says, the words immediately knotting his stomach.

Calum scoffs. “Right.”

“No, I'm serious. Maybe _you_ should sleep with me,” he says after a moment’s hesitation, mostly meaning it as a joke, partly hoping the prospect would make him feel better. It doesn’t, and the joke falls flat.

“What? absolutely not,” Calum says, understandably sounding disgusted.

Michael sighs. “No, you’re right, that was a joke. It’s Luke I might need to sleep with.”

“Mike, come on.” Calum nudges Michael so they’re both sitting facing each other.

“What?” Michael says, gaze focused on the bedding.

“Look at me,” Calum says, and damn, Michael does. “You’re not broken, Mike. there’s nothing you need to fix. I thought you knew that.”

“I guess I did, but I just… It’s never been an issue before, you know?”

“It’ll never be an issue.”

“That’s not true, though. Clearly Luke wanted–” Michael has to swallow at the reminder, but he goes on. “Clearly he wanted things to go further, so that means he likes sex, which I really should have expected, but I didn’t because that’s not something we ever talked about when we were in high school, but he’s probably had sex with Ashton and maybe other people and now I want to keep him to myself and I think he wants that too but he’ll want to sleep with me and I should be able to-”

“Mike, slow down, for fuck’s sake,” Calum almost shouts, stopping Michael in his tracks. “There is… a whole lot to unpack here. First of all, take a breath, I think you’ve lost enough of it in the past hour.”

Michael does, because Calum is right. Breathing. That’s good.

“Okay, you,” Calum points to Michael, “are not going to have sex with Luke. And I don’t even think you’d want to argue with me on that. You just had a fucking panic attack over it, Mike. You know yourself, and you know your limits. I don’t want you to push them if you’re clearly not ready. And if you’re never ready, that’s alright. If other people don’t like that, they can go fuck themselves. Quite literally.”

Michael is getting tired of Calum knowing exactly what to say and always being right. This is not what he signed up for when he filled the Best Friend form. Still, he lets out a snicker at Calum’s words.

“I know, you’re right,” he says. “It’s just, Luke–”

“Everything I said goes for Luke. I know you desperately want him back, and no matter how I feel about him I’m happy for you that it seems like you can, but not over your integrity. He’s already broken your heart too many times. Don’t let him take that too.”

This is Calum’s serious face again. The serious face with the serious words that go straight to Michael’s heart.

“Yeah, alright. I’m sorry, that was a stupid suggestion,” Michael says a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not gonna sleep with Luke. I don’t want to.”

Calum smiles back. “You’re good. You just make sure to tell him that, alright?”

Michael nods. “Cuddle?”

Calum rolls his eyes, but he opens his arms, and Michael hurries to hide in there. Damn it, he really needed a hug.

“I’m gonna talk to him tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s gonna be alright.”

There’s no answer from Calum, but the way he tightens his arms around Michael makes him believe he agrees. It's all he needs right now.

* * *

Michael spends the whole morning in bed. He scrolls down social media and watches random youtube videos until his phone dies, and then he moves to looking out the window at the cloudless sky, pretending it’s the blue of Luke’s eyes and practicing what he’s going to tell him, and what he’s going to ask of him.

Explanations, for starters. He’s been thinking all night, and Calum is, once again, right. Michael can’t have Luke back over his integrity. He’s looked enough like a fool when it comes to him; it’s not happening again. Luke needs to have a good fucking reason for all the lies and games, whether intentional or not.

Fuck, Michael just really needs to not cave or chicken out. He loves Luke more than anything, but he can’t do himself dirty. He deserves honesty.

He’s sitting on the wet sand with his feet in the calm water, mind reeling as he basks in the afternoon sun, when the subject of his thoughts makes an appearance.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Luke says, startling him.

“Jesus fuck,” Michael lets out with a hand over his heart. If this continues, it’s gonna give out soon. “Scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” Luke says, looking down at him with a sheepish smile.

 _Don’t be_ , Michael almost says, but he thinks better of it. “I was waiting for you, but I wasn’t expecting you to come to me,” he says instead with a frown, patting the ground beside him.

Luke seems to hesitate for a second, before lowering himself to the ground way too gracefully for this giant of a human.

They sit in silence for a while, letting the sea water freshen their feet and the sun blind them. There aren’t many people around them, only a few couples sunbathing further behind them. Michael can make out a boat or two floating in the distance, tiny when there are probably too many people to count on it. The occasional plane rumbling in the sky doesn’t sound disturbing at all, just adding to the sea of noise around them.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says, his voice clearer than the rest.

When Michael turns to look at him, his face looks heavy with guilt as he looks at the horizon, but he also seems more serene than Michael has seen him since that first time they almost kissed.

“For what exactly?”

“Yeah, deserved that,” Luke mumbles, then squares his shoulder, looks at Michael. “For a lot of things, but first, I’m sorry for last night.” Michael swallows at that. “I, huh. I talked to Cal this morning. Or rather, he came and talked to me. Screamed at me, whatever. Said to think harder about how you reacted and to what. And, you got scared, didn’t you? When I started feeling you up? That sounds bad, I mean when I–”

“Save your breath, I know what you mean,” Michael says, letting out a chuckle and drawing one out of Luke. Fuck, Michael would like to hear that forever. “I’m asexual. Means I don’t–”

“Yeah, I know what that means,” Luke cuts off, then lets out a long suffering sigh. “I’m so sorry about that. If I’d known, I swear I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Luke, it’s okay, this isn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known.”

Luke nods. “Yeah, okay… So, is it safe to assume then that you only pushed me away because you hate sex and not because you suddenly remembered you hated me?”

“Luke for fuck’s sake.” Michael rolls his eyes before tugging on the collar of Luke’s shirt and bringing their lips together in a short but intentional kiss. “I’ve always loved you too much to hate you, fucking dumbass.”

There’s no point in lying now, he supposes. At least Luke has the decency to look ashamed at that.

“Even when I started giving you the cold shoulder and stopped acting cute and romantic?”

“Yeah, even then,” Michael says, knowing he sounds more bitter than intending but not doing anything to change it. “You know why? Because I had faith in us, and I trusted you. Because I was so blinded by my love for you that I didn’t even realize that’s what was happening. I just thought it was normal.”

There’s something to be said about the way the words leaving his body feels so freeing, and powerful.

“It was not normal, Luke,” he goes on. “Why’d you stop? Did you stop loving me? Was it such a burden to be my boyfriend?”

With another sigh, Luke turns so he’s facing him, urging Michael to do the same. Their wet feet touch accidently, and Michael hates the giggle he lets out at that, though he’s stopped when Luke takes his hands in his.

“I never stopped loving you,” Luke starts. “And that was the whole problem. I _wanted_ to stop, as soon as I stepped foot in New York and it sinked in that this was my new home. I couldn’t allow myself to remain in love with you. Not when– not when I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. I wouldn’t have survived the heartbreak. Just like clearly you didn’t,” he adds as an afterthought, and Michael swears their faces both flinch at the words. “So I just… distanced myself from you as much as I could. Threw myself into school and into other people, friends, lovers. And I never felt anything, really, when I slept with guys. But then Ashton…”

Michael makes an unsolicited distraught noise at the back of his throat at the name, which has Luke squeezing his hands tighter before letting up, stroking the skin with his thumbs instead.

“I thought I could love him, for a while. We met and hooked up at a party and exchanged numbers and then we got on too well for it to be casual, so we got together. And I thought, _finally_. But no matter how much I fooled myself, in the end I realized that I couldn't love him like that. Or well. He made me realize it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently he kept getting annoyed when I’d bring you up in conversation, which, I didn’t even realize I did it so much.”

“You talk about me to your friends over there?” Michael can’t help but ask.

Luke lets out a small smile. “I do. And I guess that was kind of the issue, because well, it clearly meant I hadn’t moved on. But Ashton has been bringing it up since new year’s eve, and I just. We kept getting into what felt like fights but I was hoping they weren’t, because _he_ kept bringing you up, said he saw it all coming the moment I told him I was coming back here. Said he didn’t deserve this, that I needed to figure out what I wanted.”

“And what do you want?” Michael asks, holding his breath.

“Fuck, but it’s you,” Luke breathes out through a laugh, as if he’s been holding on to it. “I’m pretty sure I could try anything, get with anyone, fly myself to the other end of the galaxy, but my heart will always be tied to you. I don’t think there’s any point in pretending otherwise anymore. You’re all I want. And if I’m lucky enough that after everything you’ll take me back, then I’m all yours, for as long as you want me.”

In all his entire life, Michael is certain he’s never felt half of the relief and excitement he’s feeling in this moment. He’s feeling as light as the slight breeze on his face, as free as the water grazing his thigh, as immortal as the sun making Luke’s eyes shine with hope.

“Luke,” he says, feeling the wide smile spreading on his face. “It was never a question of wanting to take you back, because I’ve never let go of you. I’m just happy you finally took hold of my hand, too.”

“I’ll never let go of it,” Luke echoes, squeezes Michael’s hands.

“You better not,” Michael replies.

When they finally lock lips again, fingers linked and souls intertwining, the sense of home that overtakes Michael is unmatched, the purest thing the universe has ever granted him.

He doesn’t plan on letting go of that, either.

* * *

“No, put it blue.”

“What? No, that’s stupid, the water is already blue. Cal, don’t listen to him. The pink is clearly better. It’s more cool.”

Luke frowns at him. “Since when is pink cool? You don’t even like pink.”

“Course I do,” Michael says, sending water on Luke’s face. “I love it so much I might even go back to dying my hair just to make it pink.”

“But you were doing so well,” Luke sighs dramatically. “Now it’s gonna fall off, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You have no idea how much I have _not_ missed you two bickering like eight year olds,” Calum sighs where he’s adjusting the pool lights. His pool is so much cooler than Michael’s, it’s so unfair.

“That’s not blue or pink,” Luke points out when Calum joins them to sit next to Michael on the poolside.

“Well, it is my birthday so I’ll make the damn pool green if I want to,” Calum says, raising an eyebrow as daring them to argue.

“I call bullshit,” Michael says. “Technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

“Since when do you get stuck on technicalities?” Calum says, mock-shocked. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

Michael just lets out a laugh, letting Calum and Luke get on with the banter (which is something so fucking relieving in itself) as he loses himself in the night they just had.

Today was Calum’s birthday. 21, finally caught up to Michael, but Calum being Calum, the party he decided to throw was very lowkey, just how Michael himself likes them. It was the three of them, as well as almost all the guys from Calum’s team that Michael had never met before. Michael kinda liked them, he has to admit they were pretty cool. He guesses footies can be nice, as long as they’re adults. Or Calum, but Calum was always the exception.

They were nice, but if Michael is honest, he didn’t pay that much attention to them. He spent the entire time stuck to Luke’s side, stealing food off each other’s plates and talking and exchanging kisses at the table. Michael would have felt ashamed of the way he was smiling like an idiot the whole time in front of strangers if he hadn’t been so entranced by Luke.

Now it’s almost four a.m., and everyone has gone home, leaving the three of them to ride out the high of the night.

“So,” Calum says after a while, louder and shaking Michael out of his thoughts. “Have you guys figured out the long-distance thing yet?” _This time around_ , he doesn’t say, but Michael hears it loud and clear, and the sheepish look Luke gives him tells Michael he hears it too.

It’s a fair enough thing to bring up. He doesn’t blame Calum for caring and for wanting to make sure he won’t have to wake up to missed calls and too many texts from Michael because something is going wrong. It’s not as if Michael doesn’t agree; he’s just spent a full week bringing this up to Luke, explaining that from here on out, he’s going to need clear communication.

Because there’s no way he’s not going to get scared, now. Not because he doesn’t trust Luke necessarily (he’s pretty sure Luke has explained why he wasn’t talking to him before well enough, and that doesn’t seem like a future issue anymore) but because it’s just how it is. He just spent weeks going on a rollercoaster of emotions, and his heart is absolutely fucking tired. Of course he’s going to need reassurance that Luke won’t leave, especially when he’s going back to the place where Ashton is.

Thankfully, Luke has promised… he’s promised a lot of things. Promised that he would take Michael over sex any day, and that no, he’s not gonna cheat just because there are people who want to be intimate like that with him over there. That he has no reason to avoid talking to Michael every waking moment. He’s going to have to spend a lot of time studying, but he was making it work with Ashton, so “of fucking course I’ll make it work with you, you’re more important than he ever was”. He even promised to write Michael a letter every now and then once Michael told him about his that are still in his dorm, and showed him the one he wrote while Luke was at his grandparents’. 

The way Luke had gotten so angry at himself after reading them had taken Michael by surprise, but the flurry of apologies that came afterwards, muttered into Michael’s neck through tears, wasn’t unwelcome. If anything, it confirmed that Michael wasn’t being an idiot by diving head first into this thing with Luke again.

“We’ve talked about it,” Michael tells Calum now, bumping his shoulder against his. “Don’t worry, we’re being adults about it.”

Calum hums noncommittally, before looking at Luke. “Do you know when you’ll come back?”

“What, like I can’t go and see him?” Michael interjects.

“Do you have the money for it?” Calum replies, and he has a point, but he could be less rude about it.

“I could book you a flight if you wanted,” Luke says, looking nervously excited. “I wouldn’t mind. Or if that makes you too uncomfortable, we could split the price.”

“You’d do that?” 

Luke nods, his face reflecting the green of the pool. “I would,” he says. Then his face softens.” I do intend to come home, though, you know?”

Michael can feel his heart stumble on a beat. “Like… permanently?”

“Like permanently, yes. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun over there, and there are lots of opportunities and I actually love it, but… well. Everything I care about is right here.”

It’s the spontaneous honesty words, softly spoken into the night, that makes Michael’s heart flutter the way it had when Luke had shown up in his driveway a few weeks back. He feels the biggest smile on his cheeks, and he feels like it’s never going to stop.

“I love you,” Luke says, thumb coming up to stroke his cheek. Michael will never tire of hearing the words.

“I love you too,” he says back, bringing his lips to Luke is a sweet kiss.

“Oh god,” Calum whines, startling the both of them away from each other. “This is too fucking cheesy, please go back to acting like eight years old.”

“Hey, how dare you ruin this beautiful moment,” Luke says, splashing Calum with water.

“This isn’t beautiful, it’s my birthday, I don’t need fucking cavities.”

“Cal,” Michael pouts, dragging out the A. “You’re my only real friend, I deserve your undying support.”

"Well, then I refuse, I'm not a real friend,” Calum says gravely, making everyone pause. “I'm only made of paper."

“What?” Luke says, blinking. “That– that doesn’t mean anything. Calum–”

But Calum is too busy erupting into laughter, holding his middle and ending half on Michael’s lap.

“The fuck is he saying?” Luke asks, a chuckle escaping him.

“Beats me,” Michael says. “Cal? Care to enlighten us?”

Calum’s only answer is another fit of laughter. “I don’t know,” he says through tears that are wetting Michael’s shorts. “I’m so fucking tired, mate.”

He only laughs again, harder, and when Luke looks at Michael, the hilarity of it all seems to hit them both and they can only join Calum. It’s four a.m., and it’s his best friend’s birthday, and Michael just got his fucking boyfriend back, and they’re all tired and everything is ridiculous. Life is ridiculous.

“I love you so much,” Michael says again through a chuckle; he says it to Calum, curled up on his lap from laughter, and to Luke, who he’s holding tight against his side as he laughs into his neck, now and forever.

If this is what the future holds, then Michael is looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :) (no but i would actually die for feedback on this)  
> as always i'm on [tumblr](https://michaelownsmyheart.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi!


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